I remember John
in fifth grade, nineteen seventy-three,

telling me

“They say it’s okay to kill babies.”

Back then every classroom
had its crucifix even though Jesus

dogged on the rich, and hypocrites. He

was so twenty twenty-two
and never said shit about the unborn.

In college she said
she was on the pill even though

she wasn’t. We did and didn’t.  Nothing
but luck. Once upon a time I was

anti-whatever (abortion), but I got over that
(among other things) and walked the line

on clinic defense. “Can you believe it?”
we said. That was the eighties. Jesus

fucking Christ. Take it
back. I take that back. Jesus

was all right: prostitutes
and the woman at the well and all that.

Remember going with her
for the abortion? I remember. The father

was her father. Our father
who art in heaven. Hollow be.

Don’t lose sight of where we’re headed. Sights:
remember crosshairs taking down a doctor.

One justice asked about pubic hair
on a can of Coke.

Another justice was on top of her
“while the two laughed.” That fucker likes beer.

We are so screwed, and
the screwdriver is just getting started.

Matthew Murrey's poems have appeared in many journals, most recently in Okay Donkey, One, and JAMA. He received an NEA Poetry Fellowship a number of years ago, and his debut poetry collection, Bulletproof, was published in 2019 by Jacar Press. Matthew is a high school librarian in Urbana, Illinois where he lives with his partner. They have two adult sons. Read other articles by Matthew, or visit Matthew's website.