his hand…

 

his hand where
my husband’s should be
office visit

 

pap smear
if only 
I was a boy

 

birth control denied

 

domestic abuse
taking the hit
like a girl

 

preacher’s wife
no choice
but to be a mother

 

#FemkuMag Issue 13

 

at first sight

 

at first sight

 

conversion
the love
I could never have

 

confessing
every sin
first date

 

engagement photos
only our feet
touch

 

wedding night
I pretend
he’s my first

 

role-play
I perfect
submission

 

finally winning
God’s approval
first pregnancy

 

pastor’s wife
my first name
forgotten

 

our daughter’s smile
you tell me
you never believed

 

new haircut
shedding
my fundamentalism

 

all that’s left
the rings
we no longer wear

 

#FemkuMag Issue 11

 

New Lipstick

new lipstick
choosing between Pelosi
and AOC

 

women’s day
all the flowers stand tall

 

in her absence
a whisper
of freesia

 

falling cherry
the silence
of survivors

 

a familiar murmur
from the nurses’ station

 

blood moon
I defend
my right to choose

 

*a rengay by Tia Haynes and Lori A Minor

 

#FemkuMag 10

last pregnancy…

 

last pregnancy
I wish
I’d known

 

swapping stories
I give her
the best mug

 

fool’s spring
the last time
it was the last time

 


 

back to back shifts

 

i never could keep up
with your demands

 

and as your hand
slid lower
i never stopped you

 


 

Temporarily Lost

I want to be so much more than a mother. But now I will always be a mother and it will never let me go.

open fields
the last note
held in static

 

#FemkuMag 10

 

#FemkuMag – Issue 6

 

Honored to not only have two senryu in this month’s issue of #FemkuMag but also to be featured with my haibun “From Within”:

 

that pill
what once
was mine

 

retirement
her gray roots
begin to show

 


 

From Within

I grew up ashamed of my period. After all it’s the reason why women shouldn’t be CEOs, or presidents, or doctors. Right? Why we shouldn’t have any position of power. That it makes us unable to make strong decisions or handle crises. Right? And I’ve accepted that, that my own blood is a sign of weakness, not strength. That the very essence of my being is vile and less than. And that’s as it should be. Right?

broken poppy
how the petals
catch the wind

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