My mother checks the weather before she leaves

My mother checks the weather before she leaves,

leaves notes—evidence—

just in case.

Went to the grocery store 7:00 AM.

Went to the post office 11:00 AM.

Went for a run 4:00 PM.

My mother leaves evidence—

just in case.

In the morning I look outside;

calculate today’s weather,

decide what to wear.

If I go out, I must leave a note—

just in case.

Went to brunch with friends 10:00 AM.

Went for a walk 1:00 PM.

Went to the bar 9:00 PM.

Notes—evidence—pile up on the counter,

we’re wading through them, drowning

choking on the most fucked up love letters

we can’t bear to stop writing.

The weatherwoman reads the evidence on the radio

there’s a 1 in 4 chance of rape with

a 24% chance of assault and

80% chance of street harassment

My Mother says:

be home before dark.

I try not to be mad at her.

I try not to glare at my father, my brothers.

At the evidence piling up on the counters.

I check the weather. I

leave notes, evidence—

just in case.

Winning entry for our FEMFLASH 2013 competition. There’s a 100% chance the patriarchy still exists, by C. Goodwin

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