Front Porch Review
A literary magazine for the young at heart and mind

You look like you
belong at the bottom
of the Grand Canyon
where you are lower
than a worm's belly button.

You belong at
the bottom of the
Atlantic Ocean
with dried cement
suffocating your ankles.

You look like the
bottom of an empty
can of sour cream
and onion Pringles
where you're still hungry
afterwards.

You belong in
the fiery pits of Hell,
the deepest low
you can achieve
so you can reserve
a spot right beside you,
for me.

By Isabel Quinton

Isabel Quinton is a recent graduate of North Kitsap High School, who has no idea what she'll be majoring in during her college years. She loves being sarcastic and hanging out with her two cats. Much to her parents' delight, she is a liberal feminist. She has three sisters, one brother, and too many cousins to count. Most of her time is spent working in a little boutique, road trips with her boyfriend, or watching Betty White's Off Their Rockers with her best friend. Who knows what the future has in store for her. Her e-mail address: