By Lynne Schmidt
CW: Abortion
They arrive before I do,
signs plastered on the lawn,
dressed for Sunday church and
force fed sacrament.
They tell each other their hands
are cleaner than mine,
but I used to drink that wine, too.
We park our car
and I forget how the handle works.
My friend puts her arms around me
as they scream at my back.
They yell that I don’t have to do this
but they don’t know
that I do.
Heartland Society of Women Writers 