Telma Laurentino Each woman, a tree. Rings of pain and joy entangled, scar-dented bark, thousands of loving branches, chthonic roots devoted to growth. Each woman, a daughter. Promised nurturing, offered hurt, braving transgenerational tides, fiercely, gently,...
Claire Reutter We women be when we see the beauty in Claudine Gay and Elizabeth Magill who they tried to kill but we know still live; when we hear the pleas in Rashida Tlaib who they tried to silence but we still hear; when we feel the fear, and when we hear...
Janet Ruth Everything about walking icy roads after snow at 5˚ F requires care—even breathing. Pulling neck-wrap across face, I remind myself to breathe in through nose in tiny sips, help warm the brittle air drawn through nose and sinuses into my lungs. Pushed...
Janet Ruth The opposite of cancer is not benign. Memory from childhood—a monster under the bed. In the looking glass—our mirror images. We seek a weapon to vanquish fear. Together we name the monster under the bed. Wild women with fierce determination, armed to...
Ellen La Penna Breathe in through the choke of age through lungs less elastic through the web of grief still residing in my chest. I’ve been trying for so long to put all the pieces back and make them stay in place, please. Then I can follow a narrow pathway to...
Mary Pecaut If I speak of Paradise then I’m speaking of our grandmother who stands beside the river of time indulging in verdant views beneath a tree feasting on the whimbrel in flight, ki-ki-ki one eve shadowed into shame...
