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By Sue D. Burton
Today it’s Hopkins and his obscure spiritual contraptions –
everything I read is heart-corseted, like a concealable vest,
police surplus good as new. Some fanatic is packing a gun.
By Bridget Kriner
This is what I know about being a woman:
My body is coursing with estrogen,
I have a uterus, my breasts fit into bras
that are fashionable, men look at them.
By Lindsay Vaughn
Women who are not ready we have our own ways
we take pills lie in our lovers’ beds
curled like blades of grass we wait for the writhing wind
that aches and rocks our slender bodies they whisper
By Devreaux Baker
Last night my sister came to my table
Trailing stories from the other world
Trailing remnants of all our mother’s people
She spoke words that fell from her mouth
By Rayna Momen
Unprotected sex is a woman in America.
Unprotected sex is a woman in the world.
My body is my temple and will always be
it is not some place where you go to pray
By Adele Hampton
I'm not afraid to say abortion. It's a word that falls lead-heavy out of the mouth like your tongue can't handle the weight society hangs from its unassuming letters.
By Devi K. Lockwood
No, not scrubs. Put on your tight purple dress and heels,
dig them into the new carpet. You have to look gorgeous,
that way they’ll trust you. And the patients start pouring in.
By Kendra DeColo
It is easy to believe
we are separate entities,
you and I
as I wait, a fish in the chasm
By Jenny Browne
Wheeled onto the jet leaving
my town, another soldier
whose pruned body echoes earth
liberating itself from gravity.
By Lauren K. Alleyne
Tonight you are full of small rivers:
your eyes’ salty runoff, the rust-bright
trickle staining your thigh, the unnamable,