Size / / /

They don't have sex or else
the men would disappear,
engulfed,
eclipsed like earth straddled by the moon.

They have no hands.
They do no work,
except the rotund mamas
stirring their stewpots,
underarms a-jiggle.

They have no feet.
Where shall they walk?
How should they climb?
No one will dance with them.

They have no voices
except to sing opera
—but then it's all over.
Better they shut up.

All fat women are the same fat woman,
double chins redundant.
They have no biographies
because they have
no souls.

Fat men,
now, they’re substantial.
They are pockets stuffed with
speeches and dollars but

fat women are vapors;
they pour down as acid rain,
infest lagoons,
hex the subways,
ice the runways,
jam the airways,
rust the metal,
curdle the cream,
and cause male-pattern baldness.




Sandi Leibowitz has been, among other things, the Sands Point Hag, a psaltery player, a secretary at NY's Museum of Natural History, a fundraising associate, and a school librarian. Her speculative fiction and poetry may be found at Mythic Delirium, Goblin Fruit, Luna Station Quarterly, and other far-out places.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
Issue 15 Apr 2024
By: Ana Hurtado
Art by: delila
Issue 8 Apr 2024
Issue 1 Apr 2024
Issue 25 Mar 2024
By: Sammy Lê
Art by: Kim Hu
Issue 18 Mar 2024
Strange Horizons
Issue 11 Mar 2024
Issue 4 Mar 2024
Issue 26 Feb 2024
Issue 19 Feb 2024
Issue 12 Feb 2024
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