She Shall Soon Find a Way by Julie Babcock
“She Shall Soon Find a Way” by Julie Babcock Gingerbread after an exile. After the funeral pyre has smoked down and the last bread crumbs stolen. How sweet now to have found this forest house, ground cinnamon and ginger, spiced bark and root, a revival. Of course she eats it....
Mrs. Ramsey by Rebecca Ruth Gould
“Mrs. Ramsey” by Rebecca Ruth Gould Meaning suddenly suffused the subway on her way to pick flowers freshly cut for her son’s graduation. She became symbolical, a representation lingering in London’s dusk while the onlookers concluded their business, closed their shops, said goodbye to colleagues, headed home. The concentration of wife mother woman left untouched her mysterious hankering for solitude. ...
The Siege of Ennis by Eileen O’Leary
“The Siege of Ennis” by Eileen O’Leary Bernard and his daughter, Cathy, are visiting his childhood home. He has decided he wants the place. His sister, Agnes, lives here. His sister, Marian, has traveled here and wants it for herself. This excerpt is Bernard and Agnes in ACT II. BERNARD You’re going to throw it all away. The last bit of it. The last crumb. Could you not be satisfied to leave me a...
Her American Life by Sokunthary Svay
“Her American Life” by Sokunthary Svay She prays to her altar, says God but means something else. The incense hangs in the room like her ancestral spirits. Cambodian karaoke blares through the steel door. In the hallway, neighbors mistake it for Chinese. Down the elevator, Spanish speakers pretend she can’t understand “Filipina.” Jehovah’s Witnesses ring on weekends. She holds her breath until their voices...
Untitled [the dark knows this] by Jennifer Patterson
“Untitled [the dark knows this]” by Jennifer Patterson The dark knows this (1), the lap-fuls of minutes ‘til eyes shut, the way the throat feels blocked and gutted at the same time. Deep in the belly of a well. There is an absence fingers know, a leaving. Fingers try to grip. Where it’s wooded, where it’s windowless, where the quilt has weight, where a body lies, where a body leaves. Where a lake is still...
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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