Steckel’s poetry is earthy, explicit, sensual, take-no-prisoners. Although full of rich metaphor, her writing makes sense; the reader works to find personal connection, not to find basic understanding. She draws on her training as a physician, her personal experiences with disability, family history, and her background as a bisexual activist to offer us a rich buffet of poetry. Although the term “bisexual activist” is Steckel’s own self-description, I think her activism is even broader. Her poetry draws attention to the disenfranchised, whether it be due to disability, socio-economics, religion, or immigrant status. Her superb use of powerful imagery keeps me coming back to lines such as these, from a poem where she asks her grandmother to take her to the Castro:
Her Mercedes launched like a torpedo from the underground garage.
She captures the Castro perfectly, with phrases and lines such as “manly beauty sizzled” and: spreading of feathers, the sheer display of pierced and tattooed flesh preening that day on the summer street. (Pretending)
In “Twenty Thousand Vaginas Under the Sea”, Steckel talks about “all the dead mermaids” whose skeletons turned to chalk. The second stanza urges the reader to think of these mermaids any time chalk is used. Several examples are given, ending with these lines: And all that’s left of bodies born to tempt marks a tennis court’s edge or the price of haddock on a market slate.
Her poetry is firmly grounded in a sense of place. From Ballena Bay to Crab Cove, pilings, tide lines, orange-eyed night heron, cluster of sandpipers. (Alameda in the Shutter-click)
In two exquisite lines, Steckel captures the ecstasy of love and lust: I felt my DNA unscrew when she walked into a room. (Pretty, Wild)
Steckel uses her training and experience as a physician for many of her strongest poems. In “Swallowing Flies,” she alternates verses from the children’s song There was an old lady who swallowed a fly in a long poem about a patient who saw his doctor for a routine screening test, needed cardiac surgery, had multiple complications, and died.
At times humorous, at times nostalgic, Steckel keeps her readers engaged. I find more nuggets with each reading.
Her Mercedes launched like a torpedo
from the underground garage.
She captures the Castro perfectly, with phrases and lines such as “manly beauty sizzled” and:
spreading of feathers, the sheer display
of pierced and tattooed flesh
preening that day on the summer street.
(Pretending)
In “Twenty Thousand Vaginas Under the Sea”, Steckel talks about “all the dead mermaids” whose skeletons turned to chalk. The second stanza urges the reader to think of these mermaids any time chalk is used. Several examples are given, ending with these lines:
And all that’s left of bodies born to tempt
marks a tennis court’s edge
or the price of haddock on a market slate.
Her poetry is firmly grounded in a sense of place.
From Ballena Bay to Crab Cove, pilings, tide lines,
orange-eyed night heron, cluster of sandpipers.
(Alameda in the Shutter-click)
In two exquisite lines, Steckel captures the ecstasy of love and lust:
I felt my DNA unscrew
when she walked into a room.
(Pretty, Wild)
Steckel uses her training and experience as a physician for many of her strongest poems.
In “Swallowing Flies,” she alternates verses from the children’s song There was an old lady who swallowed a fly in a long poem about a patient who saw his doctor for a routine screening test, needed cardiac surgery, had multiple complications, and died.
At times humorous, at times nostalgic, Steckel keeps her readers engaged. I find more nuggets with each reading.
The Horizontal Poet