A Woman in Trump's America

Last night before polls started coming in, I was talking to my mom on the phone. "It's going to be amazing to have a woman president," she said. "I never thought I'd live to see the day!" We were so excited, ready to watch the glass ceiling shatter for good.

This election paints the clearest picture I've ever seen of what it is to be a woman in America today. We can be qualified. We can be competent. We can be the very best person for the job. We work through harassment, unfair treatment, and the outright denial that our bodies belong to us -- yet we will continue to fight. Even so, we will not get the job. There is so, so, so much work to be done for the more than half of our citizenry who are still not true equals.

To my friends who are members of the LGBTQ community, people of color, immigrants, indigenous communities, those with disabilities, and to anyone who has felt marginalized, unrepresented, and bullied, we are here in solidarity. I am terrified for the future, but if there's one thing I know, we're going to put up one hell of a fight.

Happy Birthday, Frédéric Mistral

In honor of his birth on this day in 1830, the same year that the Book of Mormon was born, here is an excerpt from one of my favorite poets, Frédéric Mistral. The Nobel Prize-winning poet and lexicographer would have been horrified at the way I use language, but I love him nonetheless.

 

The Suitors

When violets are blue in the blue shadows
Of the o'erhanging trees,
The youth who stray in pairs about the meadows
Are glad to gather these.

When peace descends upon the troubled Ocean,
And he his wrath forgets,
Flock from Martigue the boats with wing-like motion,
The fishes fill the nets.

And when the girls of Crau bloom into beauty
(And fairer earth knows not).
Aye are there suitors ready for their duty
In castle and in cot.

Limericks on Animals

These poems were originally published over at Potluck Magazine. They are all based on the real-life oddities of animals.

 


The Smartest Sloth

Three-toed sloth,

No teeth and no sense of self,

More evolved than his cousin, the two-toed dunce,

He watches the world race by on his canopy shelf.

After a grueling trek every week, he pees just once.


Penguin Love

When a boy penguin and a girl penguin meet,

He uncovers the smoothest, most splendid stone.

He rolls it warily to her outstretched feet, and

Then, the best three minutes he’s ever known.


Sea Slug Sex

In a pool of jelly, wet skin on wet skin,

At last the subtle seal slug finishes his sensual sin.

It pulls its dripping member across their marriage bed,

And stabs his exhausted lover in her unassuming head.