Christine Taylor, a multiracial English teacher and librarian, resides in her hometown Plainfield, New Jersey. She serves as a reader and contributing editor at OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Modern Haiku, apt, The Rumpus, and The Paterson Literary Review among others.


Also by Christine Taylor: Two Poems Suprise City Charade

Poets Resist
Edited by Rachel Bunting
April 11, 2018

Christine Taylor

To My Fellow Clinic Escorts: Englewood, NJ

May you arrive at the clinic promptly at 7:30 a.m. — the first patients come early for their 8 o’clock appointments even in rain and snow. May you don a neon vest, reflective panels glittering in the rising sun, wear this “Deathscort” badge with honor and pride. May you stop traffic that tears up the one-way downtown drag, usher her safely to the curb. May you hold her hand and open the door. May you lift your head towards the open sky when a protester wails on his amplifier, “I feel sorry for my brother who has to bear the burden of being an innocent white man” after a pedestrian has called the cops, again, your laughter will quake the heavens. May you pop that Advil you’ve stashed in your jeans pocket, and no, it doesn’t matter that you’ve already downed three cups of bitter black coffee. Please get out of the buffer zone. May you swallow the memories of your own past assault(s), body-check the bastard who’s trying to slip a patient a pamphlet of false promises (We’ll care for you and your baby!), watch out for the pothole in the sidewalk that catches garbage-water when they dump the bins. May you just listen to the story she tells: the struggle to feed other children when dad’s been laid off, the first-generation college degree in arm’s reach, the tumor that has claimed 70% of the fetus; each story becomes your own. May you fall to your knees when you hear that “God has called women to be submissive to their godly leaders” and praise the Mother Goddess as we bear witness to the choice to honor life, the heart of these journeys. Down the street, sirens.


Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.