Grip by Lauren Camp
“Grip” by Lauren Camp Sure, I was afraid of the perfunctory fucks of the person standing in grief with a hand on the subway pole of the 3 train. In my soft life, I don’t hear such a dispatch of crisp pitted slurs. The least thing I have is disaster. After that, exposure. Thugs trump love at these angles and cornices where everyone knows the arc of exhaustion. The train was confronted with her spectacular...
My South by Wendy Carlisle
“My South” by Wendy Carlisle On the left, the Atchafalaya, so black, so burnt inside, silent as a pot. Down here, my lips equal silt and common bliss. Down here, I carry my grave folded in my pocket, a cardboard hunger, a box and shards. The woman beside me in this food line wears, a skintight skirt, has a back-door man. Down south we have the right to costumes and gossip, to numbers and pawn. Down south, we...
The Jugular by Karla Morton
“The Jugular” by Karla Morton You laughed when I said I got out of the truck, pocket knife in hand, looking for the horse I just hit. “And what would you have done with that?” I would have wanted to end his suffering; to cut his throat. “As if you ever could.” I hope I could have done it, if I needed to; if he hadn’t scampered off; if he’d lain there, barely breathing in the ditch. I hope I could wring a...
Dada Does Dominoes by Glenda Reed
“Dada Does Dominoes” by Glenda Reed Washy is so drunk he’s unable to hide his cheating. After slamming down a legal play, he attempts to slip a second domino near my end of the table. His fingers fumble the delicate procedure. I look to Raz, but he’s studying his own hand too closely to notice. Not wanting to leave the errant domino squatting for long, I snatch it up, “No you don’t,”...
Blue Goddesses by Laura Chaignon
“Blue Goddesses” by Laura Chaignon I was not born cross-legged Or blue Not like Shiva or Amma But I will give you my love I will put my lips on your wounds Swallow the puss Gorge on your pain I am no saint I do not preach You do not need to kneel Oh, I will kneel And liberate you From the suffering I will hug the demons out of you My love is a roaring river Melting ice, unstoppable Raging It does not hum...
The Woman Who Picked Me Up by Antonia Clark
“The Woman Who Picked Me Up” by Antonia Clark had slammed on the brakes of her rusty Dodge, deciding to pull over, after all had streaked hair and muddy boots, a lazy eye and, once in a while, a wistful look had a gallon of milk and a six-pack, a torn map, and a hammer on the seat between us had to have been under 30, but claimed she was no spring chicken in dog years had her radio tuned to country and tried...
Woman Warriors: Babae/Babaylan by Aimee Suzara
“Woman Warriors: Babae/Babaylan” by Aimee Suzara Babae = girl or woman Babaylan = a shaman of ancient times who is usually two-spirited Dalaga = a young woman Diwata = a spirit of nature and the trees. Babae Babaylan Dalaga Diwata Women are the healers mothers sisters and daughters Lorde Angelou Kingston and Assata Words to nourish nations like mecca and water Babae Babaylan Dalaga Diwata Women are the...
Wild Faith by Karla Morton
“Wild Faith” by Karla Morton All angels, good and bad have the power of transmutating our bodies – St. Thomas Aquinas This is how we claim life – a little wild yet, transformed by drinking rain from wolf prints. We are pack stalking. We are women walking. There is not much difference between woman and wolf, the love of the hunt, the steady cadence, the stare of black-lined eyes. Even the square...
Anne Frankenstein by Deborah Thompson
“Anne Frankenstein” by Deborah Thompson When I open my journal, Anne emerges from her hiding place to hover at my shoulder. Does this happen to all female Jewish writers? I began to keep a journal at age 11 after reading The Diary. I named my journal Anna. “Dear Anna,” I’d write, and then describe my pre-teen travails to Anne Frank in her voice. “Terri Goodman whispered to Amy Bloom in the temple carpool that...
Tortoise by Naomi Westerman
“Tortoise” by Naomi Westerman Extract from the full-length play. Setting: A secure psychiatric hospital ward. ISOBEL, 30s, a fragile woman with bandaged wrists, hides inside a fort made out of bedding. She is alone. She sits in silence for a long time. Finally (for the first time in the play) she crawls out of her fort. ISOBEL When I was five, I had a stray tortoise. We found him in our front garden, a...
You Accompany Parents Through Winter by Alice Cone
“You Accompany Parents Through Winter” by Alice Cone As you tend to your father this winter, when the surface is white, the sky smudged glass, may your breath swell and rest like the river as it courses through shadow and silver, trusting forward and chanting the chorus that will carry your mother through winter. When the air is so cold it would splinter and your muscles so taut they would collapse, may your...
Small Bodies by Alexandra Reisner
“Small Bodies” by Alexandra Reisner A six-year-old child’s eyes are set only about three feet off the ground, which is probably why the girls saw it first. We were coming from the tennis courts when I noticed two or three of them crouching. “What is it?” I asked as I knelt to see what they saw. It was a mouse—a baby—on its side in the grass. Its head was touched with blood, but still its sides rose and fell...
Some Secrets by Debbie Urbanski
“Some Secrets” by Debbie Urbanski Outside this window there used to be a tree. This is the first secret. Now all I can see is the sky which, today, lacks personality, a plain blue streaked with predictable clouds. My neighbor cut the tree down. Is this the second secret? Let’s say, for now, that it’s not, that it is more a continuation of the first. This neighbor of mine plans to cut down more trees soon, or...
Black Swans: A Poem for Voices by Katharyn Howd Machan
“Black Swans: A Poem for Voices” by Katharyn Howd Machan We are the black swans, the women who swim. Who fly at night. Who are the night. Our golden feet touch quiet water, skim shining surface, plunge deep to make currents in dark weeds. We come and go. We know each other’s names, each other’s dreams; we dream each other. Dream the flight past ragged moon, past singing stars, and it comes true. Dream the...
Coming in Second by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal
“Coming in Second” by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal Body chilled by years of neglect, my twin lies in a hospital bed trying to grasp how she’s come to this. The sum of my fears she’s the one person I dread I could be, save for some kink in our link of genetic fiber. Struggling not to catch her death of cold, I’ve steered clear of her notion that our birth was not just conceptual happenstance. Yet at times, I find...
Unity Orders by Kate Simonian
“Unity Orders” by Kate Simonian Hot stuff. Just-what-the-doctor-Orders. Five-foot-ten at twelve-and-a-half years old, with a body to be reckoned with, a body with curves we had just learned to describe as convex. Unity would have been memorable for her name alone—a sentence unto itself, one teacher said—but over the summer she’d developed a larger-than-life sex drive to boot. Libido had left her crooked. Her...
She Whispers Korean in My Ear by Tanya Ko Hong
“She Whispers Korean in My Ear” by Tanya Ko Hong We were drinking homemade wine when my blonde friend told me Once I had a Korean boyfriend— his mother hated me but how I loved her food… She knew a bad Korean word— Whisper in my ear, I said Jajee, she said and her face bloomed red as a bong soong ah— my face cooled sub zero. Only a whore can use that word— horny women dirty women That’s not a bad word, I...
Sista-Girl by Louise McKinney
“Sista-Girl” by Louise McKinney “. . .and in between it’s nicotine and not much heart to fight. . .” —Sonny Burke She and me we complain rarely but sometimes softly and then only to each other. So as not to get on anyone’s last nerve feeling like—maybe just feel like giving up the fight, or if strapped for cash could just hit the jukes for some jazz. One night I might mutter to her (matter-a-fact) Girl, those...
Third Platoon Learns Cover & Concealment by Karen Skolfield
“Third Platoon Learns Cover & Concealment” by Karen Skolfield Our hair smelled of canvas and green. Alexis sat cross-legged and touched my cheekbone with one finger. She paused as she scanned my face: “light in the valleys, dark on the hills. I swear, you look good in green.” I wove leaves into her helmet, tried to stay still and shivered as she softened the lines from brown to green. We learned to move...
Delores (Part Two) by Esther Cohen
“Delores (Part Two)” by Esther Cohen My daughter Josephine some family I have they are a reality show I love every single one my daughter Josephine I have six children baby is 52 that doesn’t qualify for baby unless you’re her mother my daughter Josephine she is sixty this year still a wild card she’s the smartest one of all of them. Had a baby when she was 17. My first grandchild. She married Tom a handsome...
UPCOMING OPEN STUDIOS
. . . . . . . . .
SUMMER WAVES | 2024
A global virtual adventure rich in inspiration and sisterhood.
This August, details coming soon
Zoom-enabled
. . . . . . . . .
With eyes and arms and hearts open, we will recognize each other by the work we do to feel and live, to speak and create from that feeling, so that others may find ways back to their own hearts. | Irena Praitis, California, USA
Recent From Waves
-
The Water Holds Our Stories Apr 26, 2024
