MOTHER’S MILK

by Jan Chronister

file photo of mother labeling frozen breast milk

When one mother was taken by ICE, another stepped in to donate breastmilk  —The 19th, February 2, 2026

Nursing moms in Minneapolis

pump, save their extra breast milk,

share it with those who have babies

left in their care, their mothers

disappeared by ICE.

The milk is frozen,

delivered when needed in coolers.

Right now there is no danger

it will thaw out on the way.

What kind of people

abduct a nursing mother?

Leaves behind an infant,

sometimes alone?

What happened to dry up

the milk of human kindness

in their hearts?

Moms in Minneapolis hope

when the weather warms up,

and the ice melts, 

they no longer need to worry.

Jan Chronister is a retired educator who splits her year between the extremes of northern Wisconsin (by Lake Superior) and southern Georgia. She has authored three full-length poetry collections and twelve chapbooks. Jan edits and publishes the work of fellow poets under the imprint of Poetry Harbor.

SCULPTURE

by Jan Chronister

In Duluth, Minnesota

a well-known snow sculptor

crafts a car on his front lawn—

Honda Pilot with smiling driver,

arm hanging out. 

He adds a sign that says,

“I’m not mad at you.”

Someone places flowers

on the white canvas.

A photo of the sculpture on Facebook

draws close to one hundred hateful comments,

some even rejoicing at her death.

It’s going to be cold in Minnesota—

wind chills as low as -60.

The snow car and driver

will be around a long time.

Perhaps long enough

for the haters to find 

their humanity.

Jan Chronister is a retired educator who splits her year between the extremes of northern Wisconsin (by Lake Superior) and southern Georgia. She has authored three full-length poetry collections and twelve chapbooks. Jan edits and publishes the work of fellow poets under the imprint of Poetry Harbor.

TURNING POINT

Jan Chronister is a retired educator who splits her year between the extremes of northern Wisconsin (by Lake Superior) and southern Georgia. She has authored three full-length poetry collections and twelve chapbooks. Jan edits and publishes the work of fellow poets under the imprint of Poetry Harbor.

TO A SUFFRAGIST FROM HER NEIGHBOR

by Jan Chronister

Actress Dorothy Newell “Creates Sensation with Suffrage Plea Painted On Her Pretty Back,” The Topeka State Journal, November 6, 1915. Photo: Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers, Library of Congress.

You return from the protest,

VOTES FOR WOMEN

painted in perfect letters

across your broad back

bared by a daring dress,

hair a mess, banded

with a sequined scarf. 

You look tired from the fight.

Please don’t end up in jail

like Alice Paul. Put on

some clothes. Stay home

with your child. 

We don’t need the vote.

Jan Chronister splits her year between northern Wisconsin and southern Georgia. She has authored three full-length poetry collections and ten chapbooks. Her most recent is the fifth annual chapbook recounting the year through poems. Jan poetry appears in numerous print and online journals and anthologies. She also enjoys helping fellow poets publish their work.

WITH CHILD

by Jan Chronister

Arizona for Abortion Access supporters carry photographs of women who died because of abortion bans during the 35th annual All Souls Procession—a two-mile long march for community members to honor ancestors and loved ones who have died—on Nov. 3, 2024, in Tucson, Ariz. (Mario Tama / Getty Images via Ms. Magazine)

Click to see "Rest in Power: A Running List of the Preventable Deaths Caused by Abortion Ban" by Roxanne Szal,  Ms. Magazine as of November 26, 2024.

At one time

being pregnant
was a dangerous
condition to be in.
 
I would have died
in childbirth like my 
grandmother
if I’d given birth
a hundred years ago.
 
My daughter, breach,
but barely six pounds.
Small enough
for the doctor to
reach in, position her
for delivery.
How would it have ended
without his help,
called in from fishing,
smoking a pipe.
 
My son’s cord
wrapped around his neck.
Intervention again.
A healthy baby boy is born.
 
The third time
I miscarried.
Doctors took care of me,
nuns ministered
to my soul.
 
No laws prevented them
from saving me.

Editor’s Note: Women NATIONWIDE can still receive safe, effective & affordable medication abortion services via the ASafeChoice Network of physicians. 

Jan Chronister splits her year between northern Wisconsin and southern Georgia. She has authored three full-length poetry collections and ten chapbooks. Her most recent is the fifth annual chapbook recounting the year through poems. Jan poetry appears in numerous print and online journals and anthologies. She also enjoys helping fellow poets publish their work.

TUPPERWARE GOES BANKRUPT

by Jan Chronister

Tupperware Brands, whose name became synonymous with plastic food containers in kitchens across America, filed for bankruptcy protection on Tuesday after struggling for years with declining sales and increasing competition. —The New York Times, September 18, 2024

I was a Tupperware Lady,

stepped down in ’86,

turned in my company car

after years of demonstrating

how to burp a seal,

handing out tiny keychain bowls

to guests who brought a friend. 

I worked mostly at night,

came home to sleeping children.

During the day my kids played

in giant cardboard boxes

once full of wares

that I bagged up and delivered

to the women who helped me

make a living. 

One year I sold

$30,000 worth of the stuff.

It kept us in groceries,

paid the bills.

Now I have a drawer

full of incompatible

bottoms and tops

from a company no one

wants to support.

Plastic is out, parties take

too much time.

Women have better

things to do.

Jan Chronister splits her year between the far North and South. She gardens and writes poetry in both places. Her most recent book is Duluth: Zenith City & Beyond (Poetry Harbor).

AFTER SADAKO

by Jan Chronister

Oleksiy Arestovych, an adviser in the Ukrainian President's Office said: "They [Russian troops] captured Hostomel and Bucha yesterday (Saturday).The Russians entered there. "They have injured many children and do not allow to evacuate them, despite numerous appeals at the highest state level to provide a "green corridor" from Bucha and Irpin. There are many children in the basements.” “There are basements where 70 children are sitting now and they are not being released. This is a catastrophe both from the humanitarian and, above all, from the moral point of view," Arestovych said, adding that the issue was being discussed "at the highest level with international humanitarian institutions." Several children have died, according to the Ministry of Health of Ukraine. —CNN, March 6, 2022. Photo: Ukrainian soldiers trying to save a man—the only one of four at that moment who still had a pulse—moments after being hit by a mortar while trying to flee Irpin, near Kyiv, on Sunday. Credit: Lynsey Addario for The New York Times, March 6, 2022

When I smell smoke

I wonder if cities will burn,

if children will write letters from hospitals,

if peace is possible.

We lay wreaths on graves,

carve names of sons on granite walls,

give wings to platitudes and apologies.

We think we live where death will

not find us, but it can fly

on motes of dust, cover all

we know with ash,

reach over mountains, lakes,

touch the hidden places in the world.

Editor's Note: Sadako Sasaki (佐々木 禎子, Sasaki Sadako, January 7, 1943 – October 25, 1955) was a Japanese girl who became a victim of the Atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki when she was two years old. Though severely irradiated, she survived for another ten years, becoming one of the most widely known hibakusha—a Japanese term meaning "bomb-affected person.' She is remembered through the story of the more than one thousand origami cranes she folded before her death.

Jan Chronister writes in Maple, Wisconsin where winters can be rough. Her work is widely published in print and online journals and anthologies. Jan is the author of five chapbooks and two full-length poetry collections. She served six years as president of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets.

STURGIS HERE WE COME

by Jan Chronister

“If you are a Covid-19 coronavirus and happen to miss Lollapalooza, don’t fret or make crying, boo-hoo motions with your spikes. There will be other upcoming opportunities such as the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally 2021 which is set to begin next week, August 6 at Sturgis, South Dakota and continue through August 15. The Sturgis Rally website says, ‘We’re spreading out wings.’ With over 500,000 people expected, that may not be the only thing that’s spreading. As I covered for Forbes last September, one study estimated that the 2020 Sturgis Motorcycle Rally caused over 260,000 new Covid-19 coronavirus cases. While you shouldn’t bank on that specific number since the study had a number of limitations that I described, it wouldn’t surprising if the 2020 Sturgis Rally did contribute to the SARS-CoV2 surges seen last Summer.” —Bruce Y. Lee, Forbes, July 31, 2021

Doesn’t matter that we did this

last year, spread the virus

cross-country. Doesn’t matter

that we will gather in bars, 

spew saliva while we shout

face to face, maskless.

Doesn’t matter that

we are unvaccinated.

What matters is that we are free,

our hogs roar down the highway,

jobs and offices forgotten. 

Doesn’t matter that small

businesses just barely caught up,

will have to close again,

students, teachers, parents

left wondering how to cope.

Consumers plan to stock up

on toilet paper, coffee, flour. 

None of this matters.

No libtards can tell us

what to do. Fauci

is evil. Masks

don’t work. The virus

was engineered by globalists

to thin the herd.

We’ll survive—

doesn’t matter who else dies.

Jan Chronister recently resurfaced and is mad that we may all have to don masks and lock down to survive. She is grateful her home is in the country in northern Wisconsin, her freezer is full, and she can always work on poems while isolated.