Sanctity - Jude Neale

Baby’s  in the cradle 
because you 
put her there, buddy.

While mommy cried, no
more subdividing my body
into plots, then setting up house. 

Selling our uterus for votes,
and using moral superiority 
as your shield.

You were a thief in the night.

Laying claim to our bodies
with a flourish of the pen,

that cut through our choice,
to render the impossible, possible.

You who have no place
in our reproductive biography.

We shout like a black cloud
of crows,  to get off of our land—

or we’ll leave the dishes and children,
    the cooking and tending,
the factories and hospitals,
     nursing homes and banks,
schools and prisons,
    ghettos and suburbs behind.

All those places that are held
together by the glue of our kindness,

will whither and die. And throwing 
nice aside for a moment 

let It be said that 
our biggest enemy

is simply shaking our heads,

instead of plunging 
into a battle 
for the sanctity 

of our own bloody lives.

Jude Neale

Image : Pixabay - jeffjacobs1990

In Vino Veritas - Donald Keyman

Did your grape expectations wither on the vine?
Were you undercut by supermarkets every single time?
Or have people changed their ways - only drinking kombucha tea
I don’t know what it is either but it sounds good to me...

Was it the lack of parking, or business acumen
Perhaps you did not cater for the beer drinking men?
Did you stock Prosecco, the flavour of the month
Or just shelves of Côtes du Rhône and dusty Crème de menthe?

Donald Keyman

All Because... - Janet

The plates moved.
The cups danced.
The saucers flew.
The bowls jumped.
The glasses rang.
The spoons rattled.
The vase rocked.
The doors banged.
The house shook.
The earth grumbled, all because
The plates moved.

Janet