FairWriter

I have a lullaby for an adulteress. Rest your head, but not next to your husband. Close your eyes and imagine yourself under different sheets. Listen to comforting music while you contemplate your sin. Remember your mother's breast as she whispered you to sleep. And hold onto your pillow while you avoid an accusation from a stone.

Copyright 2017 Tamara Peachy I am naut pregnant. I just have an extended belly from late night popcorn, chewed all alone. I am not having a baby. I just look like I carried a burden for nine months. I am not seeking out a midwife because I don't want to know about pain. I am not taking prenatals because I just have an empty uterus that bleeds randomly. I am not dating because I understand responsibility.

Copyright 2017 I was not made to save the black man. I was not old enough to save the Indian. I can't break down a wall, guarded by intensity, so the Mexicans are no more. I can't let Syrian refugees into my country because such fighters would get bored. I can't stand up for the Irish because I don't drink. I can't heal the sick because we are all going to die. I am a free American, and I can even lie.