Manitogiizans/December
By Lois BeardsleeWhen I asked my mother
If she could remember
What her mother's mother called December
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Lois BeardsleeWhen I asked my mother
If she could remember
What her mother's mother called December
By Lourdes GalvánUtica is a pretty and quiet country
When I was at the bus station
my son would say to me, 'mom, I am hungry'
and a man who was sweeping came up to me
By Kelli Stevens Kaneblueberry blackberry as always
bleeding, back road or boulevard,
our boy crowned with baton,
By Hermine PinsonMother
Slipper
July
“ I will ask you to recall these words
at the end of our session”
By Genie AbramsC’mon c’mon c’mon. Let’s do this thing! “Two or three minutes,” my ass. It’s been five minutes already! Where are they? How long
are you supposed to hang out in this frickin’ waiting room?
By Maya PindyckMy friend tells me she just saw October Baby,
a movie about a woman who finds out she was
almost aborted—“abortion survivor,” she calls herself.
I ask my friend if she’s seen the newest flick,
By Adele HamptonI'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. LockwoodNo, 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.