I think of her voice added to the chorus
of altar boys and priests
of two thousand years
of frescoed ceilings out of reach
of actors and congressmen
of an intern and a president
of journalists and comedians
of the way things keep
of owners and athletes
of ships bearing cargo
of men wearing robes
of men dying in the streets
of testosterone
of the codes
of the chromosome
of the nature of skin
of the first time
of the womb—a departure:
of the coming
of the hour
of the momentary
release of power
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Amy Shaw is a cardiology PA living and working in Cheyenne, Wyoming. She turned to poetry after the recent election to focus on the personal in what feels like a world coming apart at the seams.
