Second Coming No. 26 — Feb. 14, 2025
A poem-a-day protest against the threat posed to our democracy by the current occupant of the White House
Vicki lorio
Spring Break
I knew the moment when
his sperm met my egg
no amount of douche
awash in my canal could
wash away this union. I diagnose
my dilemma sitting in my car
frozen at the traffic light that changes
from red to green to red in the early morning
light, so much for spring break.
Who was that guy anyway?
Just an idle diversion. He does not
taste my shame like I still taste him.
This would have been a clean sweep
in the time of my mother, my mother
of the burnt bra and loose nipples.
No more Roe v. Wade,
all slaves now—
we row when our white masters tell us to row.
Vicki lorio is the author of the poetry collections Poems from the Dirty Couch (Local Gems Press, 2013), Not Sorry (Alien Buddha Press, 2020), and the chapbooks Send Me a Letter (dancinggirlpress, 2015) Something Fishy (Finishing Line Press, 2018), and Blabbermouth (Alien Buddha Press, 2023). Her poetry has appeared in Painted Bride Quarterly, Rattle, The Fem Lit Mag, Black Coffee Review, Mom Egg Review, and other journals.
Indolent Books and editor Michael Broder are back with another poem-a-day series as a creative response to the threat posed to our democracy by the current occupant of the White House. The plan is to continue for all 1460 days of the 47th American presidency.
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Row, row, row! Oy, oy, oy.
I was your mother. Now too old to count as a woman. Now all they can do is kill me by taking away my Social Security and Medicare. Oh yes, and my vote if I don't have ID that says I'm still a woman. Thanks for your necessary poem. And Happy Valentine's Day.