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Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Showing posts with label Waiting Room. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Waiting Room. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 04, 2022

CHOICES: AN ABORTION SONNET

by Anne Graue




I sat muted in a waiting room, stared at mauve and teal
paintings framed in un-brilliance, the desk Formica. The phone
rang—no ring tones in ‘82—not quite silence, glances not too close—
I knew her—she went to my high school—we both waited.
 
When is a raven like a writing desk?
 
I hate riddles! They follow a maddening logic. The Mad
Hatter and March Hare sit at court, judging. The dormouse asks,
 
Would you like some more tea?
How can I have more when I haven't had any?

Rabbit's fur is softer than anything I’ve ever touched.
 
The act of choosing is easy, and there
in that room tears fell like a solution
and control. Recover, reset the clock.
 
I'm late! No, I got there just in time.
 

Anne Graue exercised her right to choose in 1982, a private decision that was right for her at the time. She is a poet who believes in personal choice and privacy and that there are times when some things need to be public. She wishes for freedom of choice for her daughters—for all daughters. 

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

TRANSLATOR TO ROOM 17

by Kristin G. Kelly



Adam Kwasman (R) @AdamKwasman “Bus coming in. This is not compassion. This is the abrogation of the rule of law. #AZ01 http://t.co/NfNny2poHi” Deleted after 2 hours at 2:40 PM on 15 Jul, via Twitter for iPhone. (Sources: Politwoops and Salon.com)


Was it
My imagination
That
When the
Nurse chirped
“Translator to Room 17,
Translator to Room 17”

You and your tennis pal
Washed to the point of
Desiccation then expensively
Moisturized again,
Accessorized with
Sun-sized diamond studs
for velour warm-ups

Was it
hyper+vigilance
Hypervigilance
That led me
To believe I
Might have
Seen,
Could have
Seen,
Saw

Smirks
Pass between you,
Poisoned small sighs
When the
Nurse asked
for Help
One more time

As if
Your children’s
Fevers burned
More cleanly
Than theirs
The throats
of your offspring
Held in culture
More justified
Raging Infections,
Better Pus,
Purer Pain.

Did you actually say,
Or am I
in some
Dantesque
Vision of a
Waiting Room:
“What are you going to do?
They’re taking over the place.”


Kristin G. Kelly is Associate Professor of English at the University of North Georgia. Her current research concerns the aftermath of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, especially as reflected in the poetry and prose of combat veterans. She has poems and essays published or forthcoming in journals including South Atlantic Review; Annals of Internal Medicine; and War, Literature and the Arts.