Poem - Final Draft

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