Company by Muriel Nelson
“Company” by Muriel Nelson . . . from what could we weave the boundary Between within and without, light and abyss,...
Dogs and Men in Bed by Marcia Meier
“Dogs and Men in Bed” by Marcia Meier in the early morning silence Aussie’s stub tail moves rapid-fire angles her body scrambles to get onto the bed our bodies a nest for her wiggling legs and paws head bobbing as you croon “relax”… my chest fills I look out the bedroom window, see the long-needled pine feel the shelter of this moment remember the lie once told “You ain’t nobody” ...
Denouement by Sarah Russell
“Denouement” by Sarah Russell The movers are here this morning. Only things with yellow post-its, I tell them. I find my long lost earring behind the couch. Probably landed there that night we couldn’t wait to get upstairs. I put it in my pocket, wonder if I kept the other one. I divide the sterling service for eight into two sets of four – Solomon solution of no use to either of us for dinner parties....
Parallax by Jeanette Miller
“Parallax” by Jeanette Miller Here’s where we part. Without question you walk your same, sure pace into the dark, its walls a comfort. Alone in this difficult light I’m stumbling without familiar boundaries. In the distance ivy adheres to a wall, an insistent cover of green. Did you assume I’d continue to walk beside you, providing a shadow? I lean into mine as if it were water. Each movement changes the...
The Cage Is Open by Margaret Chula
“The Cage Is Open” by Margaret Chula and Billy and Cooey are flying around the upstairs room in our Kyoto house—parakeets entrusted to us by an English couple leaving Japan. The birds are lovers and we awaken to their crooning in the small tatami room. Lovers, too, we lie beneath layers of futon, snow dusting the roof tiles. Parakeets are birds meant for sunshine and palm trees where all day they dart in and...
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?
Recent From Waves
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fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
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