FOUNDLINGS by Elizabeth Kerlikowske Mud and daub, pickets and pansies the older girl leaves the kitchen for the lane once a day looking for you or you anyone to make the fighting stop or take her away. The old man and his pitchfork old lady cupping her good ear. Tatters and bricks, scraps and mortar, she needs a dress that fits her new woman’s body. Shoes that were only ever hers. Never to see a chicken again. Her hand on the gate the only thing that keeps her from running away and gratitude.