Anne Leigh Parrish Writer

originally published in Feminine Collective


The rib never fit

And the apple had worms

Fig leaves are for fools shaming the

Triangle of life


Caves sheltered as long as you brought

Down your share, felled by points you

Chiseled by the hour, in between

Sewing skins and putting the baby

To your breast—

Migrations, snow, death

Seeds sown, crops harvested



Learn to read, get the vote, work on the floor

With a glass ceiling

Are told you are unreliable, emotional, a false accuser

When your boss grabs your ass



Want to go on the pill, and your doctor

Looks at your ringless left hand, then says no—



Get an abortion to free yourself of a burden you

Cannot carry, given you by a man who

Lied, stole, cheated



Live in a country where the ruling party

Wants to own your womb

It’s their right, they say, because

They know so much better than




Will never:

Go back

Accept cruelty as fate

Apologize for the drive of your sex

Close your eyes

To their blindness