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


is my stomach,

like a storm of violent tides,

bulging with horror, disbelief, fury


with a womb full of rage


are our grandmothers

screaming in their graves

the same words they yelled

half a century ago

fight, fight, fight


are the truths we hold

spun into something unrecognizable

twisting right, right, right

until they are simply



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


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