by A. Sea Herndon
In this land of Free and Brave
‘neath purpled mountains bruised with shame
the bloodied amber fields are paved
with tiny unmourned infant graves:
No R.I.P.’s, no family names,
the sole inscription: biowaste.
As Progress digs with spades of haste,
we shop online, smartphones displayed,
vaguely anxious of climate change.
The Holocene meets Judgment Day.
Repent! Repent, Oh Roe v. Wade
for soon we join them in the grave.
From founding father to unbreathed breath,
give me liberty and I choose death.
A woman’s right to choose, her own
unless she’s killed in utero.
“Poets, come out of your closets,
Open your windows, open your doors,
You have been holed-up too long
in your closed worlds.
Come down, come down…
…All you Catholic anarchists of poetry…
…Awake and walk in the open air.”
-Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Populist Manifesto No. 1