even scrunched under tucks and turns, layers upon layers, it’s undeniable my belly does not ask for organization, thriftiness it’s a snugged-up litter of wolf pups growling, yipping and I listen because my belly knows things I don't know warns me the guy on the train when he offers a pull on the flask and I am young, alone some days it sulks demands ordinary sustenance dark hungers if with a gentle finger, you wrote your name across my belly would hum like honey, promise to rise, promise more than enough sky between the trees not always right—my belly does not believe I unplugged the iron no matter I haven’t ironed in ten years—but when I hear my belly that too loud friend call my name as she stumbles across the crowded airport, there’s nowhere to go but into her arms
Deborah Bacharach is the author of Shake and Tremor (Grayson Books, 2021) and After I Stop Lying (Cherry Grove Collections, 2015). Her work has been published in The Antigonish Review, Cimarron Review, New Letters, and Poet Loreamong many others. Find out more at DeborahBacharach.com Instagram @debbybach Twitter @DebbyBacharach
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative’s Editor, Laura Lee Washburn, has selected July’s poems around the site’s current theme “We’re Speaking” to capture voices pushing back against the current attacks in the U.S. on human rights and on democracy. Citizens of Kansas have an attack on their state constitution on the ballot August 2nd on which we hope they will vote no in order to preserve the Kansas legacy of being a free state in which all citizens have bodily autonomy. We stand in solidarity with all people affected by current rulings from the radicalized Supreme Court.