Overturned
reads the headline
glaring from my screen
like a gun leveled at my temple
like vile hands pinning me down
like agony that slices my body open
Overturned
is my stomach,
like a storm of violent tides,
bulging with horror, disbelief, fury
pregnant
with a womb full of rage
Overturned
are our grandmothers
screaming in their graves
the same words they yelled
half a century ago
fight, fight, fight
Overturned
are the truths we hold
spun into something unrecognizable
twisting right, right, right
until they are simply
wrong
Overturned
is the world beneath my feet
rolling back, back, back like a treadmill
my legs burning for the right to stand
but still I run, gripping the bucking bull
for they will not break my spine
Overturned
our traitor state must be
where oppression is our legacy
where our grandmothers are freer than our daughters
where we’ve been sold, imprisoned, deported, slaughtered
in the name of long-dead founding fathers
who upheld oppression through an ancient constitution
and still offer us no restitution
from this womb
I birth
a revolution