Living in a country where femininity is so closely tied to the marketing of motherhood and family life, I value the writers who walk into the most painful parts of the womb space. I need their words in my head when I see an ad that sells me children. I need their voices to remind of what lies beneath the silence. I need a world that acknowledges both the beauty and the terror of life inside a female body.
And to acknowledge these—now.
Tara Isabel Zambrano’s “Piecing” (TriQuarterly)
Ingrid Jendrzejewski’s “The Miscarriage: A Poem” (Mutha Magazine)
Chelsea Dingman’s “How All Things Are Managed” (Palette Poetry)
Sandeep Pramar’s “An Uncommon Language” (The Poetry Review)
Dorothea Lasky’s “Miscarriage” (Poetry)
Allíe Marini’s “Two Pounds, Two Ounces” (Obra / Artifact)
Chloe Yelena Miller’s “Mammal’s Cries” (Dying Dahlia Review)
Linda Dove’s “Fear Is A Walk Through Immovable Trees” (Cease, Cows)
Zoë Brigley Thompson’s “Star / Sun / Snow” (Mothers Always Write)
Emma Bolden’s “House Is the Word My Doctors Used for My Body” (The National Poetry Review)
Laura Turner’s “Missing Hope: A Trio of Miscarriages, and What Happened After” (Catapult)