Creative | Posted by Bindu B on 02/8/2013

My Pretty Girl, My Mother, My Devika

The very first time my father bedded
you, I wailed from the insides. Of your womb, that is. I was a
woeful little egg erupting in warning calls. My father
was the somber-faced virgin with the
hemp on his breath. And as your muscles flexed in support of
his weight, the patterns of henna adorning your arms told
stories and each was more horrible than the next. Women
balance the earth between their knees. It was the first time
since you were an infant that you were not undressing
yourself, Devika; you feared you forgot your body as it
appeared

naked. Your turmeric chiffon sari fell to the floor in a heap.
You are an immaculate folder of cloth, always. Women balance
the earth between their knees. Do strangers know …

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Creative | Posted by Fran H on 01/18/2013

Feminism Is Not A Word We Use In Polite Society

They wanted to be blondes, all of them, at some point in their lives.

Natural honey or not, they believed when

Marilyn cooed, old, white male screenwriters her puppeteers,

“Gentlemen prefer blondes”

the line delivered with a seductive smile,

as Norma Jean Baker, a smart brunette who loved James Joyce,

drowned in her persona, hiding her soul with peroxide and carefully exposed necklines.

They hide themselves too, trying to be socially acceptable, swallowing their opinions along with the latest

dieting tea.

“Look like Barbie!” it promises on the box,

but Housewife Barbie, Mother Barbie, Teacher Barbie, Nurse Barbie,

traditional, safe occupations, nothing like Barbie’s

dangerous incarnations, President Barbie, Astronaut Barbie, CEO Barbie, Scientist Barbie, pushed to the sidelines, hidden under the bed, coated in dust. Nobody ever played with them …

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Creative | Posted by Tiffany C on 11/2/2012

Innocence and Experience

She was all sharp angles even in earlier innocence,

Sticks and stones,

Upright stance, finely wrought

Collarbone jut, delicate vertebrae

stuck out; a recollection of one night

Sternum solid plate of bone; no one will be able to break this part of you

that she instinctively felt in reassurance

Fragile as a bird,

False pretenses in adolescence,

Awkward

Inebriated lightweight who never knew the bitter taste of rejection

and instead, learned of too hasty acceptance—

Arched shoulders, hipbones widened from experience,

Her wrists smudged with bruises blooming like dandelions in grass;

abundant and careless

Her eyes, once starlight-bright, became

Precise in every action

Tousled morning-after hair

She was all sharp angles even until world remained empty,

because that night, casual, she went out with her friends to a club

Was …

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Creative | Posted by Molly B on 10/19/2012

Girl

You don’t get to say

That because I was born with these parts
And not those
That I have to wear eyeliner
Or make someone breakfast
Or suck a dick

You don’t get to say

That I’m not a nice young lady
Because I cuss and smoke
And I don’t fit into the box you built for me

It’s not my job to clean the house
Because of the vagina between my legs
And I don’t need your permission
For anything

I can work harder
And run faster
And out fight most of the men I know
There is nothing wrong with me
Just because I come from a land you’ve never been to
And speak a language you can’t learn
Don’t berate me
Just because I’m out of your …

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Creative | Posted by Katie M on 09/21/2012

Hero

We all know I’ve given you everything,
that – as far as I’m concerned sometimes – I have nothing left.
You took it all, because I gave it. Freely, willingly, without hesitation,
you didn’t have to ask.
Sometimes you didn’t.

I’ve given you all my words,
and now I don’t have much more to say.
At least, I won’t, when I finally tell the whole big scary truth –
which, despite my best efforts, I have yet to do.

When I say that it’s all out there… Well, that’s a lie.
Some of my secrets I’m still keeping.
Some of my wounds, well, they’re still bleeding.

You cut me deep, you know, and I can still see the scars.

You said you wanted it to have always been my choice.…

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Creative | Posted by Carson R on 06/22/2012

Everything Was Okay

*Trigger warning: the following story may be upsetting to survivors of / those sensitive to descriptions of sexual assault*

Eve is a palindrome. Reverse the order of letters, and the word remains the same. You’d never notice anything wrong with a backwards eve.

Eve is a marketing consultant. She lives in a narrow townhouse in Seattle. Her cat, Charcoal, roams the metal stairs and hardwood floors. In her living room, a whiteboard of scribbles rests on the black sofa. On the kitchen counter, a stack of invoices bears coffee stains. This is her office, where the computer is always on. Every morning, she comes downstairs and shakes the mouse, and the monitor casts a glow upon her face. The sky is just beginning to brighten as she types out her …

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Creative | Posted by Tiffany C on 05/4/2012

One Night Stand

Did she mention how I’m the girl of the moment?

Splashed across magazine cover pages like dripping acid from batteries

Radioactive toxic waste

How could you.

How could you.

Your bright blue eyes, cornflower blue—they said

He’s a gentleman and knows manners long dead

But you really weren’t; not at all what they said

Should I listen to them or the voices in my head?

Tell me this is wrong because it feels so right and I can’t think anymore

No end in sight

Your poisoned words so dark, so deep, penetrating their sickly message beneath

Smudged lipstick and weak resistance

And I’m not too sure what the truth is anymore

So when you tell your girlfriend the next day

Clock’s at 7; the minute hand set slightly off

Where

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Creative | Posted by Quin R on 01/13/2012

You See A Body

You see a body; not a person,

Mind you, that’s above your comprehension

But a body-strike that-an object, a plaything

A dish to be sampled to satisfy some sick craving

Never mind that you don’t even know her name,

Much less her personality, her interests, but it’s just a game

To you isn’t it? It’s not as if she really has time to give

A damn, what with everything heaped upon her just to live!

Between the driving, and the career, the shopping, the cooking,

The raising the children, the endless workouts, the starving herself to keep looking

Just as skinny as you could damn well please, thank you very much! The night class,

The no-sleep, the three-minimum-wage-jobs-just-to-make-rent, but she’s just a piece of ass

To you, isn’t she? She …

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