decalcomania by Shriya Ravi
“decalcomania” by Shriya Ravi even as the sun rises and you are no longer in shadows, she finds it hard to be afraid. there’s not much in the way of stealth, but when has she ever had use of it? nightfall does not hide the way she burns like a beacon; it does nothing to conceal the constitution of her bones. you are always chasing after her, this corporeal pipe dream. she is gentle in your arms and she is...
It Falls Gently All Around and Other Stories by Ramona Reeves
Happiness and connection prove fickle in this debut collection of eleven linked stories introducing Babbie and Donnie. She is a thrice-divorced former call girl, and he is a sobriety-challenged trucker turned yogi. Along with their community of exes, in-laws, and coworkers, Babbie and Donnie share a longing to reforge their lives, a task easier said than done in Mobile, Alabama, which bears its own share of tainted history....
The Dreaming by Ruth Thompson
“The Dreaming” by Ruth Thompson The princess Briar Rose, her mother the Queen, and all the court fall into sleep with the pricking of a finger. The crone, the dark fairy, also sleeps. They dream. 1. The Queen’s Dream When her daughter was born the queen vanished. Now she stands in her husband’s hall. She opens her mouth and flames pour out. All the court burns; the king goes up like kindling. Ah, I’m a...
The Daughter Walk by Sheila Bender
“The Daughter Walk” by Sheila Bender For Kathryne Kent We live on a circle, our mothers’ houses just to the west of our own. We carry casseroles to them, newspapers, print outs of family email, prunes to stew, brooms to sweep out the corners. Our feet crunch over their crushed gravel driveways as the sun rises behind us, sets in front of our eyes. ____________________ Share your response to this...
Honey by Margaret Chula
“Honey” by Margaret Chula I dream that I visit Mother in the last days of her life as she lies in bed naked, comfortable being naked as she never was when she was alive, her back tan and supple like Katherine Hepburn’s in The Philadelphia Story and I’m naked too as we compare bellies—how our fat is below our belly buttons, not above like a shelf that can fold over things and hold them fast, and she looks down...
Poem for My Mother by Mary Elise Bailey
“Poem for My Mother” by Mary Elise Bailey There’ll be no cups of coffee here, no rituals, no book-talk—this time, even our voices will be new. There’ll be no mother-daughter, here, where memory has slipped away and hidden, like a stubborn child we won’t follow: let her go. Just give us a goldfinch, somewhere not too distant, a bright shade of blue, our feet together, walking a path whose details we won’t...
Tissue by Berwyn Moore
“Tissue” by Berwyn Moore for my mother, Connie Moore As though to convince us she’s still game, my mother pulls from her coat pocket a lemon, blue with mold, and tosses it, a perfect serve, to the ceiling. Her eyes glimmer, for just a moment, and she’s back on the court, thirty-love, muscles poised to swing, but the lemon thuds to the...
Windy by Annita Sawyer
“Windy” by Annita Sawyer I was born at Winter Solstice on a mountaintop. I came out howling with the wind. “Here’s Windy,” the shout went up, while my dear Mama cried. Old Mrs. Dooley cleaned me off with freezing handfuls of white flakes. My blood showed scarlet on the snow. Once they’d bit and tied the cord, Mama herself held an icy ball against the knot. All the sheepskins, wool coats, down quilts they...
Breathing Room by Holly Norton
“Breathing Room” by Holly Norton What must it have been like to wake up breathless Not with anticipation With lack of oxygen The panic sets in You call 911 Gasp for breath and wait for them to come. Medics arrive Place a mask on your face Take you away without a change of clothes No siren, only the sound of wheels on the road Take you to a place where you know you will have to do...
Boy Child by Gerda Govine Ituarte
“Boy Child” by Gerda Govine Ituarte Boy child what could I have done differently Boy child where does the blame live Boy child quiet Boy child did not bother anyone Boy child shy Boy child withdrew at fourteen Boy child scared to talk on phone Boy child wanted to be a neuroscientist Boy child isolated Boy child attended college Boy child never hurt anyone Boy child communicated by email Boy child visits home...
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August 8-9 | immersion | noon to noon EST
WAVES ALIVE is an immersive experience, held tenderly by the ebb and flow of ritual, sisterhood, creative expansion, then surfacing to share what we have uncovered about ourselves and our art. Creative sisters are invited to join us at any point and remain for any length of time during our full-circle offering.
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The Deepest Place Jul 26, 2025
