The Ashsong by Kristi Carter
“The Ashsong” by Kristi Carter No fever brings the strange hands to place this bit in my mouth, it is the cold metal weight on my thin voice that brings me to fever. The sorrel waved its fleshy leaves at me as my sisters disappeared over the hill into the holler below. They are not the first to choose silence over change. Over the chance that an oratorio might burst forth from us with enough tremolo to hang...
Afterlife by Cassandra Lane
“Afterlife” by Cassandra Lane The Lynched Man’s Widow Mary feels the baby curling inside her, tighter and tighter, unbearable pain. She closes her eyes and prays for the coiled mass of limbs to dissolve. She and Burt had promised to raise this man-child together. Now, that Burt has been lynched, murdered, buried, his promises of a better future ring hollow. Mary wishes the fetus would stop feeding off her;...
Mother’s Wishbones, No Doubt by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal
“Mother’s Wishbones, No Doubt” by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal furculae with not a fragment of dried-up flesh or sinew to despoil their luster — the slew of them ranging in size from Cornish hen to turkey. Funny, I’d never noticed Mother extricate any, let alone strip them clean, secrete them somewhere long-forgotten. I stumbled across those old bones — took possession of the best of them, pried loose some of my own...
Vision by Jill Boyles
“Vision” by Jill Boyles She saw her mother at a garage sale on a spring blue morning chatting with a woman behind a card table. She closed her eyes and saw her mother’s eyes: translucid gray irises and lids bordered by brown eyeliner. The skin on her face soft and slightly fuzzy. She opened her eyes and saw her mother holding up a white blouse and imagined her saying to the woman, “Only a dollar for this?”...
Advice from Mother on Your One Less Day by Les Bernstein
“Advice from Mother on Your One Less Day” by Les Bernstein skip obligation’s inescapable sins wiggle out of pigeonholes enjoy happenstance and flux don’t forget to floss clog the clunky machinery of belief refuse templates of self ignore persistent memory elbows off the table airbrush your self portrait invite farcical pratfalls avoid hard labor’s invitation to bruise shoulders back stand up...
WAVES ALIVE |
Three hours of engagement, expansion, and creative progress.
September 19 | October 17 | November 21
. . .
The Q: Imagine what would change if we cast aside our lines to swim in mother waters.
Recent From Waves
-
incantation Jul 31, 2026 -
-
-
-
