The Button Box by Rebecca Olander
“The Button Box” by Rebecca Olander I loved combing through my grandmother’s box of buttons, picking favorites to keep. I thought it wonderful to say...
Legacy by Carol Smallwood
“Legacy” by Carol Smallwood My grandmother pinned hairpin lace bibs on grandfather’s bathing beauty calendars, crocheted jelly glass holders for Queen Anne’s Lace. Her flour sack scarves—hemmed to look like they had no hems, have hourglass patterns echoing her figure unfamiliar with backs of chairs. As the neighborhood midwife she whispered: “garcon” for a boy, “jeune fille” if a girl to keep such delicate...
No Love Letters by Helen Casey
“No Love Letters” by Helen Casey There were no love letters to my grandmother. She could not read. I would be making it up if I described thin blue sheets of words binding them. Or roses. He was, as she was, from the old country, the man who would be my grandfather. Without money. It was 1919. He came to return a gun he had used. Your children need a father. Mine need a mother. She might have liked more of...
Linney Stepp by Diane Gilliam
“In Linney Stepp, acclaimed poet Diane Gilliam gives us the story of a girl who breaks free from the force-field of her family to become herself. When we meet Linney, she is about to be traded for her distant cousin Robbie so that he can help her dad on the farm and she can help his mother keep an eye on Aunt Hesty, who is prone to wandering and revelations. Both young people chafe at being swapped like tools. But before this rich and...
lithopaedion by Carrie Nassif
Carrie Nassif’s visionary and cutting-edge collection explores the heat and blood, magic, grief and ecstasy of motherhood, particularly how this rite of passage and change of status transforms who we are from the inside out. As she writes in one poem, “a child emerges from the vapor first/ and everything else collapses to become its mother.” Her tilting imagery and daring rhymes take us into a wider view of how language and life can...
Solving for What Will Remain
“I do not weep at the world I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” – Zora Neale Hurston “Golden One” by Lyndia Radice, section image for Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices Read More _________________________________________________________ This World I Want You to Save [each title is a link to the individual work] Black Cat in a Field by Beverly...
Self-Obituary: Prose Poem by Lopa Banerjee
“Self-Obituary: Prose Poem” by Lopa Banerjee One day, a caged bird who could not be tamed will fly away, far away from this human territory of measured movements, usual chitchats, regulated habits and practiced, recycled codes. A bird who was a human by sheer accident, with a faulty topography of a mind that fed on nostalgia gold, on ungoverned desire and dreamt of sunken continents where the movement of air...
The Year the Sky Turned Orange by Valerie Speedwell
“The Year the Sky Turned Orange” by Valerie Speedwell it was the year the sky turned orange the Great Die Off, 12 billion trees ablaze the year rivers and lakes dried up and catastrophe wasn’t big enough a word to describe what was happening when the freshly dead piled up faster than could be buried or burned and the word rapture had no joy in it, only pestilence it was the year of vanished streets...
Model for a Gazebo from “The Timing of Birds” by Eleftheria Lialios
“Model for a Gazebo from ‘The Timing of Birds'” by Eleftheria Lialios Art has the power to contribute to our overall well being. It can inform and guide everything in our life. In the visual arts, it makes connections through our visual cortex, bringing up past associative memories stored in our brain. It can help direct the future, or simply point to life forms living with us, reminding us of...
Some Rough in the Hand, Some Smooth by Marge Piercy
“Some Rough in the Hand, Some Smooth” by Marge Piercy On the sill of the window beside my desk, a row of stones sits, collected on travels. Like builders of stone circles – some grand like Avebury or Stonehenge most small, just the local rocks that could be easily moved into place, but special in their way— I find some stones liminal, giving off power like radiation. Some from famous sites –the Akropolis— or...