Village Shakti by Verena Tay
“Village Shakti” by Verena Tay (for Kamini Ramachandran) I, woman, dance for me! My spine snakes into talons, your gaze pierced. My breast-hip curves to heart beats, your rhythm smashed. My feet pound paths fresh, your grasp spent. My smile bites Eve’s apple,...
Isles of the Wise by Sharon Suzuki-Martinez
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Water Women by Alla Bozarth
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St. Lunatic by Gayle Bell
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Host by Roz Spafford
“Host” by Roz Spafford From The Gospel According to Mary Hungry for justice, he won’t eat, not one grape nor flake of fish. His flesh is grass, dry as a whisper. His wish: to divide his body like those fish. Gambling on scraps, returned in baskets, overflowing. He would be bread dry and flat broken for us. He would be memory. Behind him the demons hiss. Subsistence is what they give us: our sardines...
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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