Karen Elizabeth Sharpe is a poetry editor at The Worcester Review. Her poems have appeared in Catalyst, the Mizmor Anthology, Baseball Bard, Verse Virtual, Columbia Journal of Arts & Literature, Canary, The Journal of the Environmental Crisis, Silkworm, and The Comstock Review, among others. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Karen has been a member of Marge Piercy's juried poets group and a member of the PoemWorks community in the greater Boston area.
Exhalation
 
Chainsmoking in the backseat 
I touch the fire end  
to a new cigarette, inhale. 
 
 Tracy across my lap, eyes closed.
        Tracy across my lap, eyes closed. 
 I tuck the cigarette in her fingers
        I tuck the cigarette in her fingers 
 light another for myself.
        light another for myself.  
 
Car windows cracked, cold air sluicing. 
Up front, her boyfriend,  
Jeff, grips the wheel. 
 
 Pewter countryside sews itself
        Pewter countryside sews itself  
 together. Winter shivering.
        together. Winter shivering.  
 This morning we skipped school
        This morning we skipped school  
 
drove to New Hampshire 
with $300 cash, the clinic  
two hours away. 
 
 Below closed lids
        Below closed lids 
 Tracy’s eyes scan
        Tracy’s eyes scan  
 cigarette pluming.
        cigarette pluming. 
 
At 15, neither of us could drive  
or get an abortion in our state
without a parent’s permission.  
We never thought about permission. 
 
 Rivers of trees stream by.
        Rivers of trees stream by. 
 We were twigs pale and growing
        We were twigs pale and growing  
 inside our dark bark.
        inside our dark bark. 
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