January: Year-day 22

                                         
                                              
January: Year-day 22

   (The next sonnet is another in this sequence
    that is politically charged.  I make no apology
    for it, but it does remind me of a position I
    have long held:  The separation of church and
    state/ is a fantasy.  Still, I am simply presenting
    what I believe, and I am not attempting to test
    my right to speak freely.  Besides, I could easily
    write more harshly/ about myself, and have.)

This is a banner for the Red Rose Sect,
for this is their day, the day the White House
will be blessed with red roses that reject
our allowing unborn humans to blouse
in the air: bloody, mutilated ghosts
damning us, that reject our stark presumption
which treats these as/ mereparasitic hosts
to kill as we please in our gross consumption.

This is a banner.  Wave it, wave it high,
that it may crack the coldness in your eye
which preserves your right as woman to choose
when your body may abruptly deny
lives as sacred as yours, pushing them by
as if they are trash you can't wait to lose.

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