Share Rebecca Foust’s poetry.

Foust’s grasp to her humanitarian voice is haunting and her language is direct while she subtly brings readers to awareness. When reading these lines, I believe I can feel more people caring deeply about the tragedy that befalls us, daily.

Read Rebecca Foust’s poetry.

Poethead; a poetry site

Prayer for my New Daughter

 
with lines by Audre Lorde and William Butler Yeats
 

A soul in chrysalis, in first agonized molt,
must choose: LADIES, or MENS.
For some—for you—these rooms are fraught,
an open field where lines are drawn: think of
the White-Only signs. Or Serrano’s Piss Christ
and Duchamp’s Fountain, pitted with acid
and icepicks, de-faced. As for restrooms called
“Bathrooms with Urinals,” no, his words
will never dismantle the master’s house.
For an hour I have walked and prayed,
musing on icepicks, how they’re made
to fit a blind hand; how kept so well honed.
You are soft as sown grass and fierce as cut glass.
You pack your new purse with lipstick, and mace.
 
First published in North American Review, Fall 2014.
 
[Note: written after an attack on transgender college students attempting to use a restroom with a sign that…

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