This excerpt by Katherine Davis will appear in S/tick’s upcoming Issue 4.3!
Against other women, I was made to stand naked as an
Anatomical model, while doctors lectured bunches of aspiring
Residents, all generalizations based on the study of the patriarchal.
Told repeatedly my feelings were impossible, I burrowed under
My skin, bathed in oxygenated blood, vital energy, constructed
An interior palace until I was old and learned and far away
Excerpt by Naomi Borkent. Read the rest in Issue 4.3 — coming soon!
Maybe you would’ve preferred
A woman with soft legs
That can’t stand up for themselves.
Not like mine, strong,
Able to kick, able to run.
Then I remember that they did not stand like trees
Excerpt by Colleen Donnelly — read more in Issue 4.3, coming soon!
Felicia momentarily pulled her glasses down, seeming to stare dutifully, sympathetically, peering into Ms. Levine’s heart. She made her voice waver just a tad, as she lowered her tone to utter the always terrifying edict, “You have cancer.” She could hear the whistle as Ms. Harding gulped back air. “Colorectal cancer. Stage III. I’m sorry to say the prognosis is not good.”
She watched Ms. Levine intently as she delivered the sentence. Ms. Levine seemed to shrink in the chair, head dropping, shoulders caving, as she tried to draw herself into a protective ball. Felicia held her hand out across the desk, Ms. Levine took it. Felicia squeezed and then gently stroked it – limited tactile contact indicating compassion. The desk was the court they’d play across. Sitting in adjacent chairs or together on a couch next to the fountain would invite soulful pats, perhaps a reaffirming hug or two that could complicate the negotiations. Collaboration was a necessary tightly-controlled, staged illusion.
Ms. Levine withdrew her hand, took a moment to compose and draw herself more upright once again and asked, “And what exactly are my options?”
Excerpt by Ann Tweedy
I feel sad for those erased—even the parts
erased–so that the story will stand up
like a building made of blocks
and not fall, so that it can be simple—right
outweighing wrong, good towering over
bad—and rise above the confusion that mires us.
Think of Anna Mae Aquash or Assia Weevil.
Anna Mae, an AIM activist, gunned down by AIM women and men during Wounded Knee
because she was so strong and true she looked impossible—
an informant because she was arrested and inexplicably released,
because a male FBI agent had infiltrated earlier
and gotten away with it. A group of AIM women drove her away
from the Pine Ridge house she was staying at.
10 days later—February—found by a rancher
with a bullet in her eye socket. You can watch the documentary about her lover—
A Good Day to Die—and never hear word of her. Or go to the museum
of AIM portraits in Minneapolis and not see her.
Fall 2019’s Issue 4.3 of S/tick is just around the corner! While waiting, please enjoy this excerpt of Linda M. Crate’s “women of today”:
you don’t have enough strength to silence us
we refuse to be quiet anymore—
once we remembered our voices
it was over for you,
and we will sing the song of sirens and banshees
invite every angry werewolf and vampire
over for dinner
watch as your glass ceilings are smashed to bits;
because we are the daughters of warriors
S/tick is now seeking submissions of your fabulous feminist farrago for our next issue!
Review the submissions guidelines above, then send us your best feminist poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and artwork.
We hold an intersectional view of feminism, so if your work deals with oppressions or empowerment, we want to read it.
You can also read some of our past issues to pay tribute to a brilliant community of feminist artists and authors and to get a sense of what we’re looking for.
excerpt from a poem by Heather Lee Rogers
if the plant is spiky
and lives in a jar
safe from the black thumb
safe from the black cat
if the plant is spiky
can it draw my lost blood
if the plant’s in a jar
can it clean my dead air
Read the rest of Heather’s poem in the upcoming S/tick Issue 4.2!
In the meantime, check out more of Heather’s work at www.heatherleerogerspoetry.com.
excerpt from a poem by Jennifer Leider
grimed streetlamps light
pavement plagued with glass
straining—the moon doesn’t come around here
police sirens sing strawberry blueberry
and your hair smells like papaya
in the skulking night gangs
baby-faced boys with jutting chins
hoping guns turn them men
they won’t bother us anyways
this bodega smells like
donkeys and cigarettes and sulfur
we heave ourselves over the fence
to the neighborhood pool
your dad thinks you like boys
Read the rest of Jennifer’s poem in the upcoming S/tick Issue 4.2!
In the meantime, check out Jennifer’s Instagram @followtheleider.
excerpt from a review by Catherine Lee
If, in September 1666, the English King Charles II had acted upon intelligence he received from his secret agent in Holland, Mrs. Aphra Behn, his naval fleet would not have been burned at its moorings far up the Thames in June 1667 by the Dutch colluding with exiled British dissidents.
But no, the king and his ministers were preoccupied with wining, dining, wenching, and other such expressions of their divine right. As Behn later reported to her biographer, “all the encouragement [I] met with, was to be laughed at by the Minister [I] wrote to, and [my] letter showed by way of a contempt.”
Behn had to borrow money to return to England, as her expense reimbursement cheques never appeared despite repeated desperate entreaties to her royal employers. She reportedly spent time in debtor’s prison as a result of the crown’s negligence.
But Aphra went on to write and produce 17 hit plays. As the author of poetry, translations, and 13 novels, Behn may have a claim to being the first English woman to earn her living by writing.
Find out more about Aphra Behn in the upcoming S/tick Issue 4.2!
And in the meantime, check out Catherine Lee’s multimedia pieces archived on Soundcloud/jazz-cat-lee and VIMEO/jazzovation, as well as her two handmade, signed, limited edition poetry chapbooks augmented with music for sale at Etsy/JazzOvationInn.
don’t die press is now accepting books for review.
We want to promote your book, but first, we need books and reviewers!
Click here to find out more, or e-mail gro.sserpeidtnod@rotide .