There Was a Door by Leatha Kendrick
“There Was a Door” by Leatha Kendrick There was a door and her hand on its lever. In too many clothes – her coat’s wide cape collar, her high button shoes, a bonnet heavy and huge whose beruffled lining frames a thin face. Enough to smother a watcher. For more than a century she’s stood, not going through. Was she leaving or coming home? Time has carried her cheekbones into our Susie. Susie running...
And Rose Our Voices Like Waves
Dear Creative Woman, Today we respond to the call of our times and our community to release the confluence of women’s voices — both from our anthology and new work — into shared, published WAVES. Our New WAVES “Dragging Virginia Woolf’s Body Out of the Ouse” WAVES digital cover art by Christy Sheffield Sanford, Artist in Residence, Global Day Camp, Oct. 24 ...
She Let Herself Go by George Ella Lyon
“She Let Herself Go” by George Ella Lyon 1. She let herself go soft fat sexual She let herself go to the library to college to extremes She let herself go wild and gray and all the way She let herself go deep go alone go sane She let herself stay She let herself abide by her own rules She let herself out She let herself in Let herself in for it She put down her mask She...
Hymnal, Linda Ravenswood
Hymnal by Linda Ravenswood And there she was — on Broadway between 49th and 50th — and you know what that means, even if you don’t know the city you can still feel it — because New York is...
Bracelets by G. Evelyn Lampart
Bracelets by G. Evelyn Lampart Sophie is wearing bracelets – I can hear them jangling. I can’t take my eyes off her face to look at them because she’ll think she isn’t interesting. That would break her stream of confidential I am special speak. She is talking non-stop again. About herself. Herself as a woman who is jealous of younger women, the 25-year-olds, with privilege, and with trust funds. I understand. I tell her...
Does the sea remember everything? I wonder.
Does she absorb everything? Does she keep it safe?
Virginia Woolf
. . .
The Q: Can you fathom the spectacle that would be created if we moved together, arms outstretched, close enough to touch?
The Q: What echoes through you that longs to take form—a poem, an image, a mark, a whisper of becoming?
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fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
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