Tijuana by Holly Norton
“Tijuana” by Holly Norton Southern California unwinds like a filmstrip Unreels when we cross the border in the mint green Edsel Men run into the street to meet my father and me Wave their arms and say, “Senor! Senorita!” He gets out to make a deal Fifty dollars for new upholstery Twenty for a new set of rims He ends with a joke about us getting married They laugh. I look at the ground. On the street I look at...
There Is More Light Every Day (A Song for Uneven Fingernails) by Anna Hundert
“There Is More Light Every Day (A Song for Uneven Fingernails)” by Anna Hundert there is more light every day and it is helping me to see my edges, see where my body ends and the world begins you see, this separation (here I, there world) is needed for the infant mind to grow and I am just learning there is more light in my eyes and on the ends of my eyelashes on days like...
How To Love Your Body by Kelly Cressio-Moeller
“How To Love Your Body” by Kelly Cressio-Moeller 1. Polish a bronze moon-disc, see yourself reborn through Egyptian eyes. 2. Marvel at how the shape of your ears resembles handles of a porcelain cup. 3. Recall night swimming—the first time tight-laced limbs learned buoyancy in the dark. 4. End the day on a sleigh bed for adventure while dreaming, dip sheet corners in jet—trace arrows, fire, and...
Molding by Sokunthary Svay
“Molding” by Sokunthary Svay “…the apsaras always appear on the stone in the same pose derived from that of a flying figure…standing isolated from the world on a lotus blossom or flying in the open air, they are the divine symbols of joy.” -Maurice Glaize, Angkor: A Guide to the Angkor Monuments Cambodian girls in roadside salons idolize them in curls. The eternal female sculpted for worship, protector...
The Photographer’s Model by Jeannette Miller
“The Photographer’s Model” by Jeannette Miller The hard, round lens moved toward me, its eye growing smaller the closer it came. You pictured me until the numbers wouldn’t escalate to hang on a white wall, a row of trophies, their corners pinned securely, the...
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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