Maya Carlson
POV: After Hearing that Roe v. Wade was Overturned
Let me get this straight:
I can send my body off to war
dodge a few bullets
come home with scars
I can cover my body with black
ink or cut marks
but there’s no law preventing me from
jumping from
the highest tops and
I can drink myself into my grave
with no laws to prevent the way I behave
I can puff some nicotine and
wear my skinny jeans but
I can’t wear any miniskirts or
sexy revealing shirts cause
it means that I am
open for business
but my legs aren’t open and
no one gave you permission.
The dad who hugged his
little girl too tight—
the years flew by and she
cried every night wishing
she could be free from the
oppression of the system—
the one forcing her to
support a life that
she cannot.
We’re told that it’s preventable with
a condom or some knowledge
tell that to the girl with the
full ride to college who
went out to drinks with a
couple of her girlfriends and
some random guy had followed her and
shoved her down and forced it.
Restrictive laws are not the answer.
To politicians we are just a number.
So we suffer and wait and
contemplate
why we are the ones
that are to
blame.
Untitled
We lie in a field of white rain lilies—
their petals brushing against our hair,
grass tickling our skin.
The sun descends its starless staircase,
cloaking our bodies in an amber glaze.
I glide my head into the nook of your neck
and slide my fingers between yours, sewing us together.
You turn and plant a soft kiss on my cheek,
lips lingering too long. I turn
my head, release my hand,
and feel the cool summer breeze
slide against my skin.
I have to go
you say as you stand
severing the stitches
between us.
Come with me
you plead, arm outstretched.
I pluck a petal
and place it in your hand,
folding your fingers
around it.
Maybe next time