Yoke
I’m not aborted, because abortion is illegal
Just like they’re trying to do now, controlling
Women’s bodies, saying who should live
And who should die, but what if, what if
The carrier knows best? Not even I
Sometimes I wish my mother had taken
A hook and wire and rinsed me out
But she had no safe way to end me
So I was born and since then I’ve been aborted
By people who said my skin color didn’t fit my genes
My body parts weren’t the right shape, didn’t cleave to
The right gender, to be unmolested, without judgement, left to love
Whomever I wanted, not told I was sick in the head
Or making things up, liar, liar, they stapled my words shut
Then who is right? In a world of three second soundbites
None of us are heard, blending different colors, losing distinctiveness
When you raped me, you tried to make me your nesting doll
When you told me my learning disability would cause me to fail
You were trying to break apart my bones and use them as a pencil
For your redundant thoughts and I survived despite those pronouncements
From your indifference toward the living yet you dictate
And tell women they cannot decide such things even as
You don’t let a queer woman breathe in this world
Stifling her with every rule, every cut-eyed look
But because you care nothing for me
I must care for those
Who will one day no longer suffer under
Your yoke
Candice Louisa Daquin is of Sephardi French/Egyptian descent. Born in Europe, Daquin worked in publishing before immigrating to America to become a Psychotherapist, where she has continued writing and editing whilst practicing. Daquin is Senior Editor at Indie Blu(e) Publishing and co-edited two National Indie Excellence Award winning anthologies. As a queer woman of passionate feminist beliefs concerning equality, Daquin's poetry and prose is her body of evidence. Her next collection is Tainted by the Same Counterfeit(Finishing Line Press, 2022). www.thefeatheredsleep.com