Too many weeks this summer the flags have been ordered
flown at half mast. I think of the armed troops facing miner’s wives
and daughters. Just this spring a smaller group marched the capitol.
Half the state’s billboards are against us, and in one county
the farmers have taken away the pill. This state would take the child
from its only surviving mother, and it’s not alone in that.
We make our plans in the belly of the Carnegie library
as the neighborhood fox slinks along under the pinpricked sky.
Something is moving along the horizon; we’re a dark speck that glows
and grows large, starry-eyed women poised to take back our history.
— Laura Lee Washburn