the midwife’s hollow
pain grows with the screams of her
ten-year-old patient
Rage Is
the doctor asking -his- permission
for my reproductive choice,
the interviewer asking why
a gap rips my resume in half,
the stranger glaring in the store
while glancing pointedly at my belly,
the doctor invading me without
consent because he’s on an artificial
schedule and society says it’s fine
I
pulled
crinkled
pages of
a stranger’s bible,
coated in endometrial
goo, from my vagina, the ink staining my fingers.
The smudged words, like ridiculous
aggrieved toddlers’ loud
tantrums, when
denied
lose
steam.
Obligation
As Hecate presides at the crossroads,
a guard and a guide in the Underworld,
the liminal illumination of every path,
I am the gate to life, the guard
and guide who will light the way
from birth into adulthood, or will
release the soul to seek beautiful
experiences in another, better life.
pro-birthers revealed:
vanilla misogynists
white supremacists
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