five poems

by Kathi Crawford

1982, in the Simple Past

When her mother said: if it wasn’t for you kids... Like it was a big mistake. Birthing children. Like, if she
could take it back, she would. She sang along to the raw, flinty voice of Loretta Lynn’s Coal Miner’s
Daughter, a sisterhood of girls growing up poor and rural. In her time, what was a woman without children?

Her daughter learned to cook, clean, and care for her brothers. Won awards for her typing and office skills.
Moved to Houston at nineteen for work. Met a man her age at a country western bar. Two-stepped to Johnny
Lee’s One in a Million. Fell in love. Moved in together. Bought a waterbed. Witnessed a recession. He lost
his job. She paid the bills. Ozzy Osbourne bit the head off a bat live on stage. She got pregnant.

She didn’t want to sing her mother’s song. She didn’t have the desire to bear children. The first thing he
said when she shared the news is I will pay for the abortion. He sat in the waiting room. She lay on the
table. Steeled herself for loss. Listened to instrumental music piped through speakers. Harden My Heart by
Quarterflash a salve—at least for now. In her time, what was a woman without children?

Soon after, she left him. Listened to the Pretenders Back on the Chain Gang on repeat.

‍ ‍

Burlesque Legs

‍ -After Burlesque by Elizabeth Olds (America) 1936

‍ ‍

long as West Coast redwoods, propped on heels,

meet pear shaped bodies in a line on stage. Nipples alert.

‍Mannequins with frowning eyebrows like thick bark

‍arched over closed eyes. Painted, pasted smiles

‍for an audience of corpulent men with lustful gazes.‍ ‍

Our lips the same shape as our pussies—

‍banks full of dividends wasted on misogynist mules.

‍A mountain is a mighty injustice.

Weary is the wire we teeter on.

‍One push too many and we're gone.

‍Hope—a garbage bag full of promises.

‍ ‍

We hurl ourselves from the edge into the sea. ‍

War as Fire on the Gulf Coast

-After Rochelle Hurt

War as waves rolling onto the shore. War as wind blowing over the seawall. War as bomb fragments scattered across the sand. War as buildings full of holes. War as piles of cement. War you’ll wish the fish could not hear. War as choking on toxic residue. War as displacement. War with burning trees. War you’ll feel as heat. It’s a fake war. It’s a game. So easy to start, it may never end. Now, the war has been called home. How’s your garden? Do your southern peas take root? Now your field is gray. War as hiding. War as crawling low under the smoke. War as a race. War as a way to die—all shelter-in-place.

War as Recruiting Project

- After Rochelle Hurt

War as building a hiring funnel. War as background check. War as detailed in a job description.
War as KSA’s-knowledge, skills, and attitudes. War as candidate profiles on LinkedIn. War as
jobs advertised on ZipRecruiter. War as identity crisis. War as resume. War as a well-fitted, navy
blue suit. A war you’ll interview for. It’s a competitive war. It’s full of rejection and ghosting. But
war’s the way of the world. A war to renew your motivation. War with a job offer. Did you get the
war you wanted? When do you start? Your troubles are over now. War as acceptance. War as
onboarding. War as a poser—all emotional roller coaster.

Documentary for the Erroneous Idea of Exceptionalism

born into the weight / of the American myth / the US / as inherently unique / inherently superior / with an
ordained mission / a nation / made by / and for / a set of principles //

we are called / Shining City on the Hill / Last Best Hope on Earth / Leader of the Free World / with a
constant throb / of patriotic chest thumping //

we are living in unprecedented times / repeated daily / yet history tells us otherwise / indigenous peoples /
murdered for their land / systemic racial injustice / deeply rooted //

we the people / hear echoes of history / witness lust for unbridled power / record cruelty / state actors
excuse murder / carry out atrocities / against our communities / say / it’s for the country //

we the people / keep looking / for evidence / of our freedom from oppression / Lady Liberty / a symbol of
our potential //

still, we keep watch /
hold a chorus of protest /
create tension / as a form of love /
an unflagging fight /
to free all voices //

Photo of Kathi Crawford

BIO: Kathi Crawford is a writer based in Houston, TX. Her writing has been featured in a variety of literary journals, including BULL, Full House Literary, Flash Frontier, The Argyle, and The Ekphrastic Review. Her chapbook, consider the light, was selected Best Entry, 2024 Finishing Line Press Open Chapbook Competition; running with the beasts is forthcoming. Connect with her on Instagram or LinkedIn @kathicrawford and subscribe to her blog at https://kathicrawford.com/.