I aim to submit this poem and a few others I didn't submit on time for the January 28 2022 deadline- to clamor for next years issue.
To the patriarchs in power
That think
They can write a law
Telling me what to do
With my body
With a woman's body
With anyone with a uterus’s body
This is more than a women's issue
If they can tell me
What to do with my uterus
This issue should concern everyone
Everyone
Knows someone
That has had an abortion
Everyone
Knows multiple people
That have had an abortion
And I am not pro abortion
I am not anti life
I am pro having the right to choose
I respect
You
If you think abortion
Is morally wrong
Call me
A murderer
Tell me
I am going to hell
That’s fine with me
But don’t think
For a second
That you can mind my uterus
How dare you
To think that you can control our bodies
You must be high on something quite strong
Something illegal
Or that should be
And you are
High on power
High on white supremacy
High on patriarchy
High on the smell of dying women
High on the fumes of those with uterus’s
As their tears of pain
Evaporate from the heat of their anger
We won’t go back
We refuse
Don’t think you can play
With our decision to choose
Don’t forget
You call me a Bitch
But Bitch’s get shit done
So take your pen
And take your oppressive thoughts
And put them together
On a paper called a Draft
And you’ll do what you will
SCOTUS will claim those blue and red pills
That incels
Speak of
And we will take that paper
That draft
We’ll fold it into an airplane
And watch as that craft
Comes falling down
For we won’t allow
That craft
Is to heavy
To stay up for long
Our baggage
And persistence
Is much too strong
