{"product_id":"index-of-women-isbn-9780143136217","title":"Index of Women","description":"\u003cb\u003eFrom a \"maestra of invention\" (\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e) who is at once supremely witty, ferociously smart, and emotionally raw, a new collection of poems about womanhood\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAmy Gerstler has won acclaim for sly, sophisticated, and subversive poems that find meaning in unexpected places.  Women's voices, from childhood to old age, dominate this new collection of rants, dramatic monologues, confessions and laments. A young girl muses on virginity. An aging opera singer rages against the fact that she must quit drinking. A woman in a supermarket addresses a head of lettuce. The tooth fairy finally speaks out. Both comic and prayer-like, these poems wrestle with mortality, animality, love, gender, and what it is to be human.\u003cu\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eIndex of Women\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Intimate, funny, poignant, present . . . true to the inner lives of so many women . . . beautifully crafted . . . what’s miraculous […] is that this clamor of voices across continents and centuries somehow amounts to the experience of a single mortal: she contains our multitudes.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Witty, conversational, ironic, Gerstler’s poetry portrays everyday scenes with psychic depth . . . she mixes offbeat humor and dark observations . . . she uses minimal punctuation, which inserts a swirl of energy into the poems. As her impressions flow together, they add a surreal atmosphere, suggestive of art by Toulouse-Lautrec—as when his dancers, spectators, and settings enhance one another, contributing to a sense of mystery that […] is compelling.” \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Gerstler brings her customary wit, playfulness, and emotional range to poems that expose the contradictions in ancient and contemporary concepts of femininity. These poems—some dramatic monologues, others more quiet lyrics—vividly render their chief thematic concern . . . This wonderfully intelligent and imaginative collection upends conventional gender norms in favor of illustrating womanhood in all its idiosyncrasy, complexity, and fullness.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cu\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for the poetry of Amy Gerstler:\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"[Gerstler's poetry is] extremely rich. But not cluttered and not loud . . . the supernatural, the sexy mundane, the out-of-sight are simply her materials, employed as they might be in a piece of religious art.\"\u003cb\u003e —Eileen Myles, author of \u003ci\u003eEvolution\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"[Gerstler's] poem has me crying in the airport.\" \u003cb\u003e—Ada Limón, author of \u003ci\u003eBright Dead Things\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"[Gerstler has been] one of my favorite poets since I read her book Bitter Angel. Now I have every book of hers on my shelves.\"\u003cb\u003e —Maggie Smith, author of \u003ci\u003eGood Bones\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"[Gerstler's poems are] charming and smart and emotionally targeted . . . clever [and] emotionally resonant . . . Witty, irreverent, self-deprecating--fundamentally kind.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eAmy Gerstler \u003c\/b\u003eis a writer of poetry, nonfiction and journalism who lives in Los Angeles.  She is the author of ten previous poetry collections, including \u003ci\u003eBitter Angel\u003c\/i\u003e, which won the National Book Critics Circle Award, and \u003ci\u003eCrown of Weeds\u003c\/i\u003e, which won a California Book Award. Her most recent collection, \u003ci\u003eScattered at Sea\u003c\/i\u003e (2015), was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award. Her poems have appeared in \u003ci\u003eThe New Yorker\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Paris Review\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eAmerican Poetry Review\u003c\/i\u003e, and several volumes of \u003ci\u003eBest American Poetry\u003c\/i\u003e. She teaches in the graduate fine arts department at Art Center, College of Design, in Pasadena, California, and is a member of the core faculty of the Bennington Writing Seminars MFA program at Bennington College in Vermont.\u003cp\u003e{from an Introduction to some fragments of the  Index of Women}\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo, given the document’s age and ravaged state,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit’s far from the epic we thought we’d be left\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eby our ancestors. Where, for example,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eare the gods, floods, beasts, and prophesies?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof these women tell me\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn fairness, evidence suggests that the authors\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof this scattershot, fragmented volume never\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecalled what they were collecting and setting\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edown an “epic,” “catalog,” or “index”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut instead used a term that most closely\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etranslates to “inheritance” in our language.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who holds the keys\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who can speak to bees\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who guards the crosswalks\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who unites disparate nations and faiths\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewill remain ageless all her days.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlso uncharacteristic of a true epic is the text’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eintrinsic ambivalence, for instance, its mentions,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eoften ironic, of modesty, gracefulness, purity, delicacy,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecivility, compliance, reticence, chastity, affability, and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epoliteness, next to sentences like “slut” being,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof course, an honorific, and when the body insists,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewho are you to contradict it? as well as numerous\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eother sexual references.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof these women tell me:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she, swallower of swords, sorrow, and semen\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who is a physical stud\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who is born anew every second\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who breaks speed limits\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who represents the totality of what can be known\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who leads mixed-gender teams into battle\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who manages, no matter where she is, to keep herself clean\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who was buried in her Girl Scout uniform—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esash covered with merit badges\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAuthored over the course of generations,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eoften under dire conditions (some type\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof plague may have been raging\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eduring the first few decades in which\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit was written), the text at times seems\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto mutate, containing a shifting chorus\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof voices singing in unison. At other\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etimes, speakers are for pages\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eengaged in spirited debates.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewe loaded our battered Chevy with provisions:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebedding, bottles, pots, pans, high chair, crib,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethen she began having second thoughts about our mission.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEnvision, then, a text riddled with disputed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efragments, its breath smelling of cough drops,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emouthwash, and cigarettes, or instant coffee,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eor gin, its hands shoved into oven mitts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA document that comes down to us in tatters,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epassages of which we are told were composed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eover a Royal Warrior stove in bright brave true blue!!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof these women tell me: superlative examples of their kind\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor no reason we can find\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe document includes a selection\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof cheerful seasonal songs\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand several attempts to describe\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe sounds made by wind chimes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTell me of the seamstress of souls\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof those night wanderers and root diggers\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof she who moves easily between worlds\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe who holds her teacup high over her head\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen victorious, laughing so hard\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etea splatters down her gown\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe had hoped to learn about ancient notions\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof the heroic. All we have found so far are vows,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecurses, recipes, regrets, prayers, elegies,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elove songs, tales of drug trips, protests,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eremedies, household hints, and practical\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einstructions: for growing tomatoes in poor soil,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor curing infections, and for easing the dying\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eout of this life, to offer three random examples.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea Girl Scout’s honor is to be trusted\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea Girl Scout is loyal\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea Girl Scout is a friend to all and a sister to every other Girl Scout\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea Girl Scout is clean in thought, word, and deed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt is impossible to tell when the last undamaged copy was lost.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou are not going to get a wilting flower\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou are going to get a hard-charging female\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePerhaps it can be loosely classed as a “shattered epic”?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit is recounted that women drove their cars to remote sites\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto mate with rivers, animals, and trees\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHere the page is badly damaged, with only four lines decipherable:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who could diagnose with her nose\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who can say NO\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who tends those floating in coma\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuch as she who sees ghosts before breakfast . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVirginity\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLying down on the rug with someone and getting dust\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebunnies in your hair. The eloquence of long pauses.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePassing notes rather than speaking. A basement fogged\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith pot smoke. Trying to read another body via its breathing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe idea that if you kiss someone you can taste what they\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ejust ate. Refusing to eat what your mother cooks anymore,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhich hurts her feelings. But you can’t stand dead sautéed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eanimal inside your mouth now, so you have to spit it out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe myth that innocence is protective. The idea of not\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeing able to stop. Reading secret magazines a cousin stuffed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einto the bottom of his sleeping bag. The idea that someone\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecurious about your body isn’t interested in the private theater\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof your mind. Theories that there might be a kind of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eviolence about it. How Mother insists that without true love\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit’s just worthless humping, and the idea that for the life\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou aspire to, she’s probably wrong. What your body has\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epromised for so long. The idea of your disastrous premiere.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe idea of someone laughing at you after. The idea of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehoofprints, stampede damage, being crushed underfoot.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe idea of keeping all this hidden as you slowly lotus open.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOde to Birth Control\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFertility hot on my heels like a Fury,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand I at that young age in such a blind hurry\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto embrace the opposite of what was chaste.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat’s where you came in—You jellies,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou douches, in white pliable tubes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elike the family toothpaste. And You:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecylindrical plastic applicator, squirting\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea plume of contraceptive goo\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon a bathroom wall\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat first night I fumbled with you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAncient birth control methods include:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efish bladders linen sheaths\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehoney lint acacia leaves\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand my personal favorite: crocodile dung\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egummy substances to stop up\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe mouth of the womb\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esilkworm guts were also thought useful\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMargaret Sanger’s words\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eclang in the head:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewoman as brood animal\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA friend sends a Victorian postcard\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof a large stork, bundle dangling from its beak,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echasing a woman in hat and bustle\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eas she attempts to defend herself with her umbrella.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe caption reads: and still the villain pursues her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRare, that early flash of self-knowledge\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat while I might care deeply\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor other people’s children, I was not mother\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ematerial. Not sane enough. Ill too often.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEtc. I don’t believe I have to provide an excuse.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd so, You, Madame Diaphragm,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere pressed into service: shallow rubber cup\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eanointed with cold-as-a-Slurpee spermicide,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethen folded in half and shoved up inside.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe diaphragm slept in a pink plastic case\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat clicked shut like the hatch of a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003espacecraft. Diaphragm: a contraceptive\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edevice that Margaret Sanger (I will kiss her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshoes if we meet in the afterlife) was jailed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor smuggling into the U.S., in brandy\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebottles, birth control being illegal in 1918.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePamphlets or books on the topic were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ealso banned, considered obscene.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDuring certain years I nevertheless\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eached for an infant’s weight to cradle, caress,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elonged to clone in utero the men I loved best.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNowadays, when I get my hands on\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea nice, juicy baby, somebody’s burping,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshitting little god, I tremble and pray.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSome babies wave arms and legs languidly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eas if rehearsing water ballet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA few are as inconsolable as adults.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eExcept a baby is never wrong.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo be taken over, invaded. To swell. To harbor a being in your body who won’t leave. To be a vessel, a container. To once again become secondary to a life deemed more important than yours. To host a kind of parasite. To have your organs squashed to make room for another human. Not to be alone in your body anymore, to become a form of packaging and\/or housing. To be temporarily double-souled. To eat, sleep, and breathe for two. To be sapped, waylaid, stopped in your tracks. To be trapped, to have no means of escape, to be forced to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e(until men and women are absolved from\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe fear of becoming parents,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eexcept when they themselves desire it)\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebecome not a person but a place, a site, someone’s ground zero, their very first hometown. They hide in the guest room of your womb and set up camp. And your body begins to shift for their benefit. Whether you’re willing or not. Whether you have money or a place to live. Whether you can take of yourself, or\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThese “medicines,” these devices,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebecame in my day as part of one’s anatomy,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eone’s exertions\/insertions,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe secrecy of secretions,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe panics, narrow escapes,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enightmares of being chased\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eby armies of greedy babies.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLet me alone! Forgive me!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWe girls stared down pharmacy clerks\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eor squirmed in stirrups\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof bow tie–wearing gynecologists,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebought or begged these items\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand prayed they’d work.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eor, you may eat a concoction of oil and quicksilver after the fact\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd You IUDs . . . Copper-7, tiny\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewire-wrapped numeral who caused\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea year of hellish cramps. Dalkon\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShield shaped like a horseshoe crab.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHormone pills in roulette wheel dispensers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePlastic, rubber, and chemical protectresses,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eall I have to offer is this awkward song.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAcross the trajectory of my childless life,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI call out to you now, name you and praise you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI owe you all I’ve tried to be.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnthem\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear blitzkrieg of wetness and breasts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear masseuses and muses, thighs sluiced\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith juices. Dear coven members posing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epeppery questions, like: Is a witchy third breast\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eakin to a third eye? Can we climb into the light\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enow from cellars and attics? Can we abandon\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eour nectar dance temporarily, stop skimming\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efroth off cauldrons and let our bravura arias\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eascend? So much depends upon shrewd,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eingenious, difficult women, prodigal daughters\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand wisecracking wives, unwilling brides, bakers\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof exploding pies, giantesses in whose tresses\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003econdors nest, audacious maidens with blood on\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etheir tongues, all of whose chests house untamed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehearts: How is it your beauty never departs?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTooth Fairy Sonnet\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI can’t tolerate daylight, so I slip into the dim of kids’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebedrooms at night, adorned with necklaces made of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebaby teeth. The color white makes me retch. I’d like\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto resign, become something other than a fang\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecollector. I can fly, but only as a limp, boneless ghost,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea spectral jellyfish with floating skirts, a marble quarry\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhirlwind. I smell of chalk dust, old dental records,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eossuaries, loss, and skeletons cleaned of meat. My\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebreath is a whiff of extinction. I have eyes like\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emustard seeds. No, I’m not pretty. To reach your\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eworld of porcelain drinking fountains and molar-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erotting toffees, I navigate a long, winding tunnel\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeach evening, parts of which are dark, and parts\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof which are the hurt pink of a sore throat.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304533086437,"sku":"NP9780143136217","price":20.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780143136217.jpg?v=1767730019","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/index-of-women-isbn-9780143136217","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}