The Fringe of Grey

I could cast myself in white

Pure and innocent

and he the man in black

who led me astray

But we both know

We live on the fringe of grey.

I could say I wore baby’s breath in my hair

that he tempted me

with the scent of a red rose

But we both know

The grass was green and damp

and the columbines were in bloom.

I could remember the white of the paper gown

0r the black typeface of the consent form

(the first I had ever signed myself)

(Do you remember being seventeen?)

But I remember most

the blood stain,

my own scarlet “A,”

and the grey brick building

protesters with black and white signs,

yelling about life

and death

(Perhaps you were one of them?)

I could claim that I cast rue and marigold

upon the earth

Rend my clothing in grief

I could swear that I simply forget

Let the day pass each year

without my heart skipping a beat

But we both know
The truth is grey

and it cuts, not cleanly, but with a dull knife

So sometimes I still wonder

What If?

And most times I’m glad

but sometimes I cry.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Kerry's Wednesday Challenge, Breaking the 4th Wall

and Poets United, Wonder Wednesday #9, Shades of Grey

Untitled

photo by s. tardio 4.5.12

Do I have the right to mourn

a child who was never born?

Who perished by my own consent

from my body ripped and torn

Some may consider it a sin

ending life that could have been

but two other lives were saved

A situation none can win

And though it's been near thirty years

At times the memory still appears

I was the one who caused the loss

Am I entitled to the tears?

Hello

The dogs start yapping

before the doorbell even rings

I open it 

about a foot

and there they are

the elders

twin penguins

(minus the tux jackets)

standing at attention on my doorstep

hair neatly combed

smiles in place

Bibles in hand

and I think

Damn why didn't I look out the peephole first?

Hello

We'd like to talk to you about

why out god is better than your god

why our church is better than your church

(oh, you don't go to church? 

well, maybe you'd like to visit ours!)

why you should believe what we believe

why you will burn in hell if you don't

why

why 

why

Why didn't I look through that damn peephole?

I send them away

and toss their tracts on top of the newspaper

Headlines 

shout 

religion and politics

politics and religion

and when did this country become

a theocracy anyway?

Those who don't fit 

better get with the Christian agenda real quick

cause the men are coming

with their probes

(if I'd wanted the government up my cunt

I would have fucked a bureaucrat)

and I have no need 

to be born again

cause I was born just right 

the first time, thank you

So maybe I'll just hide here

behind my door

and be sure

to check to damn peephole

and not open it

until Santorum 

is a dirty word again.

submitted for Fireblossom Friday #4, Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Choices

License plate on the car ahead reads
"It's a child, not a choice"
And I wonder
Has it really been 38 years since
I was granted the right to
my own body?
And I wonder
why I have to look
over my shoulder
in my rear view mirror
to see who's trailing me
to the clinic
And I wonder
why I have to dodge pamphlets
pushed on me like politician's handshakes
and curses thrown like middle school spitballs
We all make our choices

You say you choose life
so why do you paste a scarlet A
on the doctor's chest like a target
for the snipers to gun him down?
We all make our choices
is what you say
So what do you say
to the man who chooses to rape his daughter?
to the mother who chooses to pretend not to see?
what do you say
to the girl
a child herself
with shame and confusion growing inside her
like a cancer?
Do you choose to call her murderer?
Damn her to hell?
We all make our choices

And what of the child
whose mama chooses
not to feed him today?
Who wears last week's clothes
reeking of urine and
steals money at school?
Does he choose this life?
You cry over the lost tadpoles but
look the other way when the frogs die
in their formaldehyde ponds
another one pinned on the dissection tray
just another day
Go ahead
Slap a bumper sticker on your car
We all make our choices.

submitted for Poets United, Thursday Think Tank, Choices

Red

On Thursday September 15^th, the Virginia Board of Health passed new regulations for the twenty-three abortion clinics within the state. The new measures impose regulations on the clinic itself, including rules about ceiling height, hallway width, size of operating tables, and number of parking spaces. Proponents of the plan deem it necessary for safety reasons, but the majority of abortions performed in Virginia clinics occur during the first trimester. First trimester abortions are extremely safe and rarely present complications...The Virginia regulations are the newest anti-abortion laws in a string of state-level legislation passed since the 2010 elections...Backed by the new Republican majorities in many state legislatures, restrictions on abortion are becoming increasing common. http://www.americavotes.org/node/1660

Tie the doors shut with red tape

It's a real red-letter day

victory for the red, white, and blue morality police

wipe the blood stains off their hands

Scarlet women put in their place

faces red with shame and fear

roaming back alleys after sunset

searching

Watch the blood flow

red and redder

Watch as it floods the streets

taints the sheets

Watch them die in

rivers of crimson

Red is the color of women's suffering

Red is the color of rage

Clay soil

under the nails of the men who

dig the graves

for the women

for the girls

who don't stop bleeding

red roses atop 

their graves.

submitted for Thursday Think Tank, #68 Red at Poets United

The Wall

image source

We take our assigned positions

They make a wall

We march through

They shout at us

We walk silently, stoically

Protecting our charges

Getting them safely to the other side

Almost like a game of Red Rover

But we're not children

And no one is laughing

Each side has its uniforms

They-  crosses, placards, leaflets

We-  orange vests

And the women we battle over-

Lost, stunned, exhausted stares

Realizing they've just stepped into

A war zone

There's even a priest

Who dares cross to our side

Offering up hot coffee on an icy winter morning

My first instinct, to reject his offer

But the coffee's warm and the air is cold

I thank him for his kindness

And we share a moment, shivering together and drink

Then retreat

To our positions

submitted for Poetry Potluck, Week 43, Life in Free Verse, at Jingle Poetry

Who's Gonna Save Them?

Stole the cash from Mama's purse

To buy the test after school

Along with a candy bar, nail polish, and lip gloss

To look casual, you know, like she did this all the time

Cut her morning classes to pee in peace

After Mama went off to work

Who's gonna save them

Now that they're here?

Wrapped the bad news in toilet paper

Hid it in the trash

Passed her boyfriend a note

He hung his head and slammed the dirty cafeteria table

Later he offered to marry her

If she wanted

Or give her the money

To do something else

Who's gonna save them

Now that they're here?

She tried to keep her head up and walk tall

They called her "whore" and "baby killer"

Pushed pamphlets at her with pictures she didn't want to see

She told herself she'd come back another day

But she never did

The sting of Mama's hand across her face hurt the worst

Who's gonna save them

Now that they're here?

submitted for WD Poetic Form Challenge, The Bop, at Poetic Asides

The Bop is a poetic form created by Afaa Michael Weaver. It is a poetic argument made up of 3 stanzas, each stanza followed by a refrain. The first stanza (6 lines) states a problem, the second stanza (8 lines) explores or expands upon the problem, and the third stanza (6 lines) presents a resolution to the problem or tells of the failure to resolve the problem.