Two Serious Ladies is a small online magazine to promote writing and art by women.

The magazine was created in 2012 by Lauren Spohrer, who regrets how slowly she responds to submissions.

It’s named for the 1943 short novel by Jane Bowles. The novel contains the line:

“I wanted to be a religious leader when I was young and now I just reside in my house and try not to be too unhappy.” 


Two Poems by Liz Cambra

Selections fromLamp Poems

The lamp was discovered when the first woman held a word so long in her mouth, it was subsumed into her gums.
This abnegation lit the skin-- the first cosmetic. Also,
the first lamp.


Lamps with a wick of hair were popular in 1849. All hair of the bride-to-be, all hair adept at falling onto anyone’s collar, all hair stolen sideways into the mouth during sleep (like a ribbon one may pull to prompt the tongue) was shorn and plaited into individual plaits.¹  The hair was laid into a decorative box made of resinous wood, or struck with
little squares of inlaid mirror. Our future groom selected one plait from this cloister to replace the cotton wick of his plain bedside lamp. A boiling smell (superb!) ensued as the lamp was lit. All at once, our groom noticed the stone-like braid on his ottoman, the blunt, cut hair of  his velvet rug-- he experienced what can be only described as an extreme startlement of hair within every item long succumbed to his purchase. When the plait-wick  finally did burn out, it was always with a piercing snap, like the click of a tongue, or a lid blown shut.² 
__________________________________________________ ¹ How did these brides, living years beneath such broad bowers of hair, appear in the scalp at the lectures,dances and operas which were their prime enjoyments? Much like the toes of far-eastern women, the hairof these brides was likewise muted-- and the brides likewise revered. ² The bride’s scalp was wrapped  in a pale scarf to be unwound by her husband, who would revel in the sight of each patchy, inarticulance of new growth.      

Is All Delicacy Reserved for Exotic Pets?

Armadillo Keepers? I have dated. Each would catch the thing on their knee, and with a weak hand massage a balm of some limpid jelly sharp with pepper, into their pet’s lean plates. Though I find beekeepers, framed always in a purr of bees more gentle still. One thin-lipped man kept dragonflies. We frequented still waters, railed passionately near buckets of effluvia. He had a light way of turning up the underside of a leaf, for the flickering cordials of eggs, that made me feel haughty, like a witness to some important sympathy, some male nervousness for life.


Liz Cambra lives in California with her boyfriend and other dreams of various pets. Her poetry has appeared in The Feminist Wire.


Saskatchewan by Angela Woodward

One of Us By Farah Ahamed