‘Mary’ by Alice Wickenden

1)  The girl took a test in a department store bathroom / it was positive / this was weird because she hadn’t had sex in a while / and then it was with another girl / the two of them moving like leaves caught on barbed wire / so this was impossible / but.

2)  There was no decision to make / she called the phone number like her friend / like her aunt / like her lover before her / like everyone before her / she did not bother with things like impossibilities & she did not tell her mother.

3)  Afterwards she told a friend in a café / somehow word got out / strangers started turning up at the doors with signs & anger / calling her all sorts of things / lesbian not even meriting mention / so righteous were they / their fury was terrifying /why are they so angry her dad asked / she signed back to him they think I am a murderer / grateful he could not hear the specifics (they think I unbirthed Jesus).

4)  & probably it was true. There was no other explanation. But, she said to herself, I did not want it – / even when doctors had dismissed her story on Twitter / and reporters had stopped knocking / believers spat or muttered at her in the streets.

5)  Eventually / desperate for peace / she prayed. This was the greatest violation of all: being forced to believe. / She said fuck you

6)  I did not want it / & maybe somewhere the absent father felt ashamed / maybe he repented for his sin / maybe he winced in recognition of what he had done. Or maybe not – / maybe, why should he?

From issue #11: spring/summer 2021

About the Author
Alice Wickenden is finishing her PhD on Renaissance books in London. She has poems in Anthropocene, Cypress and Coffin Bell and a forthcoming chapbook with Variant Literature called To Fall Fable. In her spare time she volunteers for Abortion Support Network, and reads to her cat.