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Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

Monthly Excursion

Stacy Dore

Past the man
��handing out pamphlets
making proclamations into a mic.
��broadcasting low frequency all
��the horror. . . the horror

��Past the pair of heavy doors
Pussshhhh
��the waiting room is peopled
with mothers’
��bodies that house them:
some wanted
some unwanted
some still unshowing
��unsure bellies still concave
��not yet rounded
��the signs of new life?

Past legs, all sizes sticking out
At the counter, they sit
��behind thick bulletproof transparent barrier
��chosen
to protect them

I speak confidently
��slowly,
most of them preoccupied with multitasking phones and computers and lists of those waiting
in the space now behind me
��She buzzes me in through the double doors that are locked from the inside
��into their crisp, clean space
��where i can speak freely
��without the glass to separate us.

Past the private door
��she finds them
��pills the man outside said are against the will of god
��We wait for my receipt
��from the outdated printer
(not yet ink jet)
��I finger the free condoms in the jar tenderly
secret candy
we talk about new laws
Another jar
��protesting buttons
I put it on the overhead visor, over the seatbelt warning



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