You’re tied to kin that capture
your heart in moonlight
but your hallucinations
are made up of mechanisms
of distrust, dotted
with purple aster.
Inside a church: shoes
lined up against the punctured sky,
only the ones with buckles
contenders for the after story—
heaven with bits of briar.
You get sold, you’re given a pony,
but never taught how to ride.
A hovering veil reverberates
at bruised midnight. Clouds
are wrecked, no recovery.
The follicles of God are clogged.
The Bible of the unborn is burning,
sacrament of no more choices.
About the Poem
This poem was written in response to the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe versus Wade, making abortion illegal for millions of women in numerous states, and paving the way for more restrictions on women’s reproductive freedom and health.
About the Author
Susan Michele Coronel is an NYC-based poet whose poems have appeared in publications including Spillway 29, TAB Journal, The Inflectionist Review, Gyroscope Review, Prometheus Dreaming, Redivider, and One Art. In 2021, one of her poems was runner-up for the Beacon Street Poetry Prize, and another was a finalist in the Millennium Writing Awards. In the same year, she received a Pushcart nomination and was longlisted for the Sappho Prize.