I want to be a mother, I think.
I have picked out names
like Frances
and Arlo
and Indiana
and June.
I want to be a mother, but I think
my wants have been stolen.
I yell names into the wind
to remind myself of
my could’ve beens.

I’ll end up a martyr instead.
I have picked out names
like Hind
and Trayvon
and Anadith
and Ronnie.
I’ll yell their names into the wind
to remind myself that
I will bring no more children into this fight
and I will bow for no kings
that allowed the taking of
their should’ve beens.