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Hermine Pinson

Test for Cognitive Function

By Hermine Pinson Mother

Slipper

July

“ I will ask you to recall these words

at the end of our session”

Three Patients, One Morning

By Genie Abrams C’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?
Maya Pindyck

Baby of the Month

By Maya Pindyck My 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,

Above Average

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
Rayna Momen

Temple

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
Adele Hampton

Reclaim

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.

a poem about abortion

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.
Marie-Elizabeth Mali

Oceanside, CA

By Marie-Elizabeth Mali Balancing on crutches in the shallows
near her mother, a girl missing her right lower leg
swings her body and falls, laughing.
Nicholas Samaras

Anxiety Attack at 27,000 Feet

By Nicholas Samaras What is that red throbbing over the sound of engines?
Why is a distant war still being talked about in the media?
I can't see my home or Iraq or the Middle East
outside this bowed rectangle of blue altitude.
Elizabeth Acevedo

The Therapist Says to Talk Through Your Door in Case You’re Listening

By Elizabeth Acevedo Rob, my heart is a peeled clementine and I don't wince
anymore when you stick your thumb in the hollow middle,
pull apart. You don't even swallow these pieces
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