THE BOARD SPEAKS TO AN ASSEMBLY OF FIFTH-GRADE GIRLS

by Terri Kirby Erickson 

Sunday school at a Baptist church in Kentucky, 1946 

The Board has determined that fifth grade,
which may be too late for some, is the most
optimal time to inform girls that post-birth
females are not fully autonomous human 
beings. No adverse circumstances or plans
or dreams or medical emergencies trump 
your legal and moral responsibility to give 
birth should any male, whether by force or 
consent, plant his seed in the fertile ground 
of a uterus that becomes, immediately upon
conception, the sole property of The State. 
The Board, comprised of five men and two 
wholly compliant women, strives to remain 
sympathetic to how hard it must be for you 
to accept this news, having been so revered 
before birth and deceived into believing you 
have the same rights and post-delivery value 
as boys and men. Let us assure you today, 
that you do not. Indeed, should you become 
pregnant and experience a life-threatening 
situation, the continuation of a fetal heart-
beat is all that matters. Furthermore, there 
are many government agencies dedicated to 
ensuring that, under penalty of death or life 
in prison for all involved, no pregnancy is
unlawfully terminated. No questions? Then 
you are, as will often be the case, dismissed.

 
Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of six collections of poetry, including A Sun Inside My Chest (Press 53), winner of an International Book Award for Poetry. Her work has appeared in “American Life in Poetry,” Asheville Poetry Review, JAMA,Poet’s Market, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore (QLRS), The SUN, The Writer’s Almanac, Third Wednesday, and many more. Other awards include the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Nautilus Silver Book Award. 

SCREE

by Akua Lezli Hope

The five-justice Supreme Court bloc that overturned a half century of women's abortion rights on Friday had coalesced less than two years. But they had found their moment and they seized it. 

—CNN, June 25, 2022

This is insane, jackboot, psychic rape

The Supreme Court struck down Roe v. Wade

another way the inane U.S. of A

reminds it's not for most of us

already thrown under the careening bus

of a twisted, hegemonic, male patriarchy

 

We’re flattened again into oppressed dust

made to adhere to perverted needs

the worst of pornographic politics

their insatiable soul-robbing greed

to control another’s body

There's no daycare, scant maternity leave,

 

and yes, human trafficking is on the rise… 

as are rates of suicides, which could be

assuaged by an increase in minimum wage

 

They are on the take, ensuring innocent’s demise

States have their say over our reproduction

 

Those who don’t give a damn, limit our care

already so much less than what is fair

I pay 5 grand a year for nothing,

fight each and every month for access

to protective gear, bandages, dressings

 

Regressive, life threatening government decisions—

we feel the genteel violence of head in sand inaction

the incessant roar of entertainments’ self-indulgent distractions

who cares if one multimillionaire berates another

 

They build on sliding mountaintops and buy

their own fresh water, their own fresh air

their wild caught this and free range that

we communicate instantly these mounting tragedies

ever less and less and less free

Akua Lezli Hope is a creator and wisdom seeker who uses sound, words, fiber, glass, metal, and wire to create poems, patterns, stories, music,  sculpture, and peace.  A paraplegic, third-generation New Yorker, her honors include the NEA, two NYFAs, SFPA, Rhysling and Pushcart Prize nominations.

IMPRESSIVELY LATE

by Harsimran Kaur

Several women’s organisations across [India] have opposed the government’s move to increase the age of marriage of girls from 18 to 21 years, which has been ironically touted as a measure of women’s empowerment. … Similarly, ‘Young Voices: National Working Group’ formed in response to the task force, comprising 96 civil society organisations, in its report published on July 25, 2020, had also opposed this move. The report brought out after surveying about 2,500 adolescents across 15 states stated, “…Increasing the age of marriage will either harm or have no impact by itself unless the root causes of women’s disempowerment are addressed.” —Flavia Agnes, “Increasing Marriage Age for Girls May Only Strengthen Patriarchy,” The Times of India, December 19, 2021

my friend got married at seventeen

in a gurudwara

singing the hymns her mother sang some

twenty-five years ago

on a cold day in January

her henna – impolite

her body wrapped in Red

her tiny legs blurting out of her salwar:

“maybe it’s too soon.” i don’t know

her forehead smeared in red

eyes black, cajoled

driven out of existence.

all i know is that she is my friend

who loves Jell-O, baked cookies & comfy blankets

i don’t know who taught her marriage

i didn’t know a red bindi on her forehead before

& seven pairs of bangles made from glass

hanging loose from her wrists

two for one.

brought from the corner shop with no name

i didn’t know red grew in a land that

burns, buys, believes, blue

& meanders our lives 

like the Ganges

Harsimran Kaur is a seventeen-year-old author of three books. Her work has been recognised by The Royal Commonwealth Society, Oxford University Press, and the International Human Rights Art Festival. She is currently a senior in high school in India.

A LETTER TO PATRIARCHY

by Zaroya Amjad

#JusticeforNoor was trending last week on Twitter in Pakistan, after Noor Mukadam, 27, was stabbed and beheaded in an upscale district of Islamabad. The week prior, #JusticeforQuratulain had been the top hashtag after the mother of four was tortured to death by her husband in Hyderabad. And earlier this month, it was #JusticeforSaima, who was shot dead after her husband opened fire on her and her children in Peshawar. Photo: Women's rights activists place candles and flowers beside posters with the pictures of Noor Mukadam, who was recently brutally beheaded by her childhood friend. The killing of Mukadam in an upscale neighborhood of Pakistan's capital has shone a spotlight on the relentless violence against women in the country. AP Photo via The National (UAE), July 31, 2021)

Within the bleak paranoia of fear and rage, 

My skinny fingers, blemished with 

The ink of denial and self assurance arise, 

To write a crimson letter to patriarchy on behalf of 

Every abandoned dream,

Joy and happiness sitting silently 

In the corner of my shallow ribcage 

I am a human being 

Made of flesh and bones 

Holding a universe in my eyes 

And vortexes of melancholy in the 

Empty spaces of my heart 

I walk, out on the streets and 

Instead of seeing me as an art,

 A masterpiece of God, 

You look at me like a target,

 A billboard of your desires, 

A menu of your favorite 'desi' restaurant 

The ideas I speak of will take you beyond the Moon 

Beyond the horizons of your notions

Beyond the parallel universe 

Up in the sky, far from the heavens 

But you take them as mere blabbering 

Coming out of my cherry lips

 I speak of bare truths, unraveling the lies, 

Dismantling the facade of "Equality" "Women Rights" and 

"Respect for all" you hide behind

Disguising the beatings, the rapes, assaults, 

Unfair treatment, abuse and hurt 

What you actually are,

 I show you in the mirror and you break it with the 

Sledgehammer of your hefty ego

 I open myself, weep and portray my emotions 

And you label me as weak, timid and fragile

Not worthy of the CEO post

But worthy of the low paid teaching job 

In a private school built in the sector of your insecurities

 I mention my joys and sorrows, 

Dreams and goals and you hush me up, 

Telling me my place is in the four walls of home 

Home never felt like home to me, 

Despite of the beatings and screaming of the male dominant members 

Of my household I tried to dwell in it and yet

 I couldn't 

I fill the holes of your toxic words in my soul

With self love taught by my mother

 And yet I fail to do so, for no matter how hard I try, 

How much I become good at something,

You make me feel like I'm still not enough 

You tell me my clothes are made of shame 

With vulgarity knitted on them 

But the seven-year-old raped and murdered was completely covered 

So how will you justify rape now? 

You chain me within the confines of your self-built city of good women

Not letting me go out, seek and discover myself 

Only because I was born with a pair of ovaries? 

Why shall I be told by you what to do with my body 

When you yourself do now own a body 

So exquisite and strong? 

I bear your abusive words, you catcall me on the streets 

When I'm on my way home, minding my own business, 

Thinking about every worse thing that has happened today 

And not even surprisingly,

 You're on top of the list

Zaroya Amjad is a 22-year-old Pakistani writer, blogger, and poet. She recently graduated from Air University, Islamabad and writes for various Pakistani magazines.

I WON'T BACK DOWN

by Scott Bade

via Good

          Well, I won't back down
          No, I won't back down
          You can stand me up at the gates of hell
          But I won't back down
                 —Tom Petty


I’m dead because I’m not giving in
not backing down like the song says
so plainly we almost wonder if he’s
being ironic behind his laid-back
persona which hides a driven artist
whose Americanism hangs directly
upon the red white, blue and green
ethics of a capitalist republic blown
up beyond anything a dream could
dream up if it had the time to wonder
what might happen if we let wealth
unbuckle its belt and hang loose
on humanity’s sofa, a phone in
hand to scan the endlessness
of desire: video after video after
video of nubile young bodies
performing their roles for those
who have put them there and who
hope to keep them there, tied
inside a loop of patriarchy and
testosterone, a world man made
for man to man world to hold
himself above everyone even
himself, who knows his past,
knows the wrongs he’s lived
and knows the wrongs he covered
          and so I’m hanging here above
all of us, even me, so that no
one can touch me, except
myself, which is, after all
really all I’ve ever needed.

Scott Bade earned his Ph.D. in creative writing at Western Michigan University (WMU). In addition to teaching at Kalamazoo College and the Kalamazoo Institute of Arts, Scott is also the coordinator of the WMU Center for the Humanities. He is a former poetry editor for Third Coast Magazine and editorial assistant at New Issues Press. His chapbook My Favorite Thing About Desire was a co-winner of the 2018 Celery City Chapboook contest. His poems have appeared in Fugue, Shadowgraph, H_NGM_N, Foothill and elsewhere.

POEM BURIED UNDER THE SHED

by Kelsey Bryan-Zwick 

Photo by Richard Baker, Concord Monitor, May 2, 2019

Buried under the rhododendron, left cold in a back
alley dumpster for the garbage person to deliver
to indiscriminate piles of city landfill, torn to
nothing by screaming seagulls, or tossed like so
many refugees seeking asylum, to the bottom of an
ocean more likely to be remembered as graveyard
did you think our stories would be pretty as we are?

Covered in lipstick, hair braided, words worn like
a dress, did you think our fight would be somehow
less violent than the all wars described to you in your
history books?  Well they don’t gag and bind you
with a patriarchy of rules meant to diminish your power
and your voice because they think you’ll have
nice things to say. As we shed the millions of slights
and insults meant to define us, we don’t even know
our own skin.

And when you hear us at first maybe it will just
sound like a siren, almost indiscernible from all
the white noise, but then unmistakable, an ill pitch
in the stomach, a long sickening wail, some
visceral animal, a tearing crawling shriek, clawing
our way through the silence.  After so many years in
exile, the truth is hideously real: the monster we made
our monster to love.

Kelsey Bryan-Zwick is a Spanish/English speaking SoCal poet and artist with a B.A. from UC Santa Cruz in Literature/Creative Writing.  She is the author of three chapbooks, the most recent being Watermarked (Sadie Girl Press) a hand-bound edition which intermixes both her poetry and art.  Disabled with scoliosis from a young age her poems often focus on trauma, giving heart to the antiseptic language of hospital intake forms.  A Pushcart Prize nominee, Kelsey’s poetry appears, or is forthcoming in Rise Up Review, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Incandescent Mind, petrichor, Like a Girl, Lummox, A Poet is a Poet No Matter How Tall, Eunoia Review, and Redshift.

POST-KAVANAUGH MUSINGS

by George Salamon






Let us read the Kavanaugh debacle not as
Map of the future but as a map of our history
In which most men aspired to power,
To command an empire, a city, a family,
Employing their talent to be obeyed,
Fulfilling their need to excel, and
Succeed in dividing humans into
Executioners and victims, exempting
Only madmen and wise men,
Saints and beggars from engaging
In this jostling game, played in every
Nation and tribe and their institutions.
This political instinct that dominated
The hearings for Justice Kavanaugh
Disguised the cannibalism that rules
Where humanity is taught and raised to see
Itself as leaders and their followers,
Tyrants and slaves, where human beings
Enter a pact, sacrificing their dreams
For either committing or enduring crimes,
And pretending that the tune of this
Dance is the music to the march of progress.


George Salamon watched the Kavanaugh hearings but, so far, has noticed no side effects, He lives and writes in St. Louis, MO.

ADVICE FROM THE PATRIARCHY

by Howard Winn

Original cartoon by Bruce MacKinnon

Be a good girl and leave things as they are
since that arrangement has worked well
for us over the ages as we found
power and satisfaction with the way
issues have operated to our advantage
and questioning only gets in our way
you may cry a little when the time
seems appropriate but not kicking or
screaming that would be disturbing
and shift the attention to any ill treatment
you may see and feel for the way
we run the society has worked for us
and you ladies or girls should step aside
or submit when we desire it and your
feelings or even intellect is secondary
to our feelings of seniority and grandeur
even our misplaced anger is part of the
way we have built our sense of superiority
and supremacy which must not be
questioned in this patriarchy we have
fashioned over time and generations
to our benefit and personal profit

Howard Winn's novel Acropolis is published by Propertius Press. He has poems in the Pennsylvania Literary Journal and in Evening Street Magazine.

GIRLS JUST WANT TO HAVE ENJOYMENT

by Diane Elayne Dees

Click here to see original tweet.

So many things we could be doing—
watching movies, walking dogs,
playing with kids, lying on the beach,
having coffee with friends, playing tennis
on Saturday, relaxing at a jazz club.
But none of these can compare
with remembering, reliving, retelling:
the hug turned sinister, the doctored
drink, the sound of fabric being ripped,
the feel of bruising hands on shoulders,
the sound of laughter, the vomit-inducing
kiss, the heavy breathing, noxious sweat,
the brutal violation so powerful—
our neurology may never be the same.
The pleasure center of the female brain
lights up with every opportunity to beg
a powerful man to listen, to understand,
to maybe—one day—actually give a damn.

Diane Elayne Dees’s poems have been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane, who lives in Covington, Louisiana, also publishes Women Who Serve, a blog that covers women’s professional tennis throughout the world.

LIFE NOIR

by David Feela






Old movies
permit a man
seducing a woman
to grab her,
even as the woman
fights back.
Her role
requires she be
handled by men,
aversion or
explicit refusal
written into
a script that ends
for the audience
like a fairytale.
The director
understands,
he too is a man
and he wants her
to resist, loves
seeing how
grandly she demurs,
every retake
just to prove
she wants
to get it
right.


David Feela writes a monthly column for The Four Corners Free Press and for The Durango Telegraph. A poetry chapbook, Thought Experiments, won the Southwest Poet Series. His first full length poetry book The Home Atlas appeared in 2009. His new book of essays How Delicate These Arches released through Raven's Eye Press, has been chosen as a finalist for the Colorado Book Award.