The Potential of Yellow Roses by Susan J. Erickson
“The Potential of Yellow Roses” by Susan J. Erickson I spent my formative years leading fish to water. I heard my mother thinking, You are not living up to your potential. Then I was struck by static electricity...
Selkie by Sandra Cross
“Selkie” by Sandra Cross To earn my way to the beach I have to make it through the back yard past nodding buds of sour-grass their white corms underground waiting to be next spring’s weeds. Past the choking pepper tree its bark sliced by narrow wire golden sap marking a slow trail down its trunk, past the Azalea. smothered by sweet woodruff. Past a gopher proof hole waiting to be dug for the lavender...
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...
Rebuilding the ’63 Beetle by Nancy Krim
“Rebuilding the ’63 Beetle” by Nancy Krim The engine needs rebuilding he said and she said I’ll do it. But what about the camshaft? She said I can see it slipping there, sliding against the pulley I can see where the problem is. He said you’ll never get it down off the blocks to tow it, you won’t know where to order parts, how to disassemble— I know all about dissembling, she said. I’ve done it all my life....
On the Need to Re-establish Sovereignty Over My Own Heart by Trina Porte
“On the Need to Re-establish Sovereignty Over My Own Heart” by Trina Porte because the city machines hum even if they do not sing because the heart is actually made of muscle because the silver in my hair will one day be spent because the sun will rise on the day i am no longer married just as it will each day after ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here ...
We have always known each other. Our cells breathe the same song. Our kin is paper, canvas, cloth. The light that surrounds our bodies is the first light of morning.
Susan Roney-O’Brien
. . .
The Q: How do we move from oneself to oneness?
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the cresting wave Nov 28, 2025
