Post-Roe Dirge by Liz Cooledge Jenkins

I have seen a sad thing.

Faces twisted in strange (un)righteous anger outside a clinic

Or sitting around the dinner table laughing

Like the world was not just shaken gravely beneath the feet of half of them

(No, all of them)

(No, all of us)

Or shouts of celebration when a wail of grief is due.

We played the pipe for you and you did not dance.

We sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.[1]

(What is wrong with them?

What has gone so wrong with us?)

Continue reading “Post-Roe Dirge by Liz Cooledge Jenkins”

A Poem for Our Abortion Rights by Marie Cartier

Fecundity: the ability to produce an abundance of new growth, but also the ability to produce new ideas

And now in the hour of our discontent, we are asked to worry about

fecundity. I suppose we can call it that—have we made enough babies yet?

As a people. A people ruled by patriarchy. No small thing. “A social system in which males dominate and hold primary power.”

Oh my god—am I sick of it? Anyone with a brain is sick of it…I want to think.

But they have brains, right? The afore mentioned patriarchs? Who are

creating this new social system?

A meme goes out on social media—I’m not pro-murder I’m pro-Ellen, thirteen years old and pregnant by her father

I’m pro-Margaret, with five kids and I cannot to afford to feed another

I’m pro-Eliza, pregnant with a baby known to have serious birth defects

I’m pro– you get the idea.

Continue reading “A Poem for Our Abortion Rights by Marie Cartier”

Wildflower Wonder by Sara Wright

Ephemeral Emergence

 Arbutus trumpets

   seduce bumblebees

 three lobed

trillium wings

streak rose

shining stars

pearling forest floors

wild oats bow

bluebead swords


wild lily

leaves clasp

palms in prayer

stained glass

hemlock sky

 filters light

 fragrant needles

fracture white

sun glare….

‘spring beauties’


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Poem:  “How to Survive a Four Letter Word” by Marie Cartier

What is taken from a woman?

When someone breaks her open and fills her with nothing of herself,

and then leaves?

She has to find all the pieces of herself.

That’s why they call it—recovery.



You have to recover.

It doesn’t always happen. You’re not put back together

exactly the same. The pieces were broken.

Still are, just glued back together.

It’s a four letter word:  rape.

Continue reading “Poem:  “How to Survive a Four Letter Word” by Marie Cartier”

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