On love and abortion, I noticed the moon’s

Golden warm growing. Its crescenting ship

Swung through my ocean, till I rocked in the one

Salt, the one wisdom, we’d woven: our nest.

Held in our silence, I heard us together.

“Abortion is beautiful,” crested our voices:

Millions; dead, living, our hands linked together;

Trusting these bodies, Her body—as honest

As waves that the salt ocean blood hears in one

Heart-beat, together. Our crescenting ship

Rode through millennia, under tides’ moons:

Salt nest, salt courage, salt, weaving, salt, women,