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Twist and love and love and twist
I am the mother of monsters
I am a monster of mothers
Laundry and necks and necks and laundry
Step and monster and mother and step

A story can be grim but it can’t mother
the way bears do. The way they eat
their young if they will starve. I would eat
my young. I would eat my heart. I cannot bear
this dance. Mother of monster. Monster mother.
Mother monster. I will eat your heart.

Better to survive than bear
what will kill you. Bears have learned
wombs are not worth more than a bear. Mama
Bear is an animal fertile and wild and wild and fertile
this is what makes us mothers. But this cannot be
born. They do not like reminders that mothers are
monstrous. We bear life and bare life
strips us of that which makes

mother only only mother

(human is not used here not even once)

Hands rung and wrung hands
(Scarlet ringing necks and wringing necks)
(This is reserved for the stories in which I am)
(Step)(mother)

Womb born out, I am erased
Replaced
Stepping into my own story I
embrace my
monster

mother of monsters monster of mothers
monster of mothers mother of monsters
Twist and love and love and twist



Dyani Sabin is an author of speculative fiction, poetry, and science journalism. Her work has been published in National Geographic, The Washington Post, Popular Science, and Scientific American, among others. You can find her haunting a cornfield, chasing ghosts on the endangered species list, or on Twitter @DyaniSabin.
Current Issue
26 Sep 2022

Would a Teixcalaanli aristocrat look up at the sky, think of Lsel Station, and wonder—with Auden—"what doubtful act allows/ Our freedom in this English house/ our picnics in the sun"?
I propose that The Expanse and its ilk present us with a similar sentiment, in reverse—a warning that for all the promise of futurism and technological advancement, plenty of new, and perhaps much worse futures are right before us. In the course of outrunning la vieux monde, we may find that we are awaited not simply by new worlds to win, but also many more which may yet be lost.
where oil slurped up out of the dirt, they drink the coffee
Science fiction is a genre that continues to struggle with its own colonialist history, of which many of its portrayals of extractivism are a part. Science fiction is also a genre that has a history of being socially progressive and conscious – these are both truths.
Bring my stones, my bones, back to me
If we are to accept that the extractive unconscious is latent, is everywhere, part of everything, but unseen and unspoken, and killing us in our waking lives, then science fiction constitutes its dreams.
they are quoting Darwish at the picket & i am finally breathing again
Waste is profoundly shaping and changing our society and our way of living. Our daily mundane world always treats waste as a hidden structure, together with its whole ecosystem, and places it beyond our sight, to maintain the glories of contemporary life. But unfortunately, some are advantaged by this, while others suffer.
Like this woman, I am carrying the world on my back.
So we’re talking about a violence that supplants the histories of people and things, scrubbing them clean so that they can fuel the oppressive and unequal status quo it sustains.
Issue 21 Sep 2022
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By: Cat T.
Issue 22 Aug 2022
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Issue 1 Aug 2022
Issue 18 Jul 2022
Issue 11 Jul 2022
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