Kate MacAlister

ritual: how to plot an abortion  

“I remember standing in front of the train station sometime in the mid-1970s and handing out leaflets. At the time, this very doctor had been shot, and everyone was afraid that the file with the names of his patients would now be found.” -  Dora




1. whisper. for witches are never silent.



but whisper: of the woman  

who was once regarded a factory to good

society. whisper of the woman who

was never here.  




2. steal. what you can.



specula

upper blade, lower blade,  

sharpen your courage, soften your voice.

cannulae, also soft. flexible.  

disinfectant. rinse off everything men called holy .  




3. give. Everything                                         give. nothing

 

whatever is available                                         

more or less suitable:

a bicycle pump, a picknick

basket full secrets clattering,

dried kelp. trust


 

4. wash hands. hold




hands. move across  

the sternum and symphysis  

take good measure. centimetres last weeks  




5. push down gently, locate the fundus,




gently palpate, seek out the cradle  

of her fathers dirty looks, her mother’s gasping, the ruin on her breath  

 humiliation. Leave both of these

outside, at the door.  

#witchesbelike 7



6. stand. next to the bed. wait.




for the sign. open  

and pump. gentle suction - release  

the tissue into the glassbottle

waves of blushed seafoam

and listen. the scratching, grave sound  

of letting go.  




7. feel out the emptiness, the complete waters




exorcise the spectre of guilt against the

light of the cave once again

and watch it bloom  

into choice

into life  




8. Leave advice and comfort but not yourself- remember  




the coathangers, the knitting needle,  

chicken bones, soft bodies crashing  

down the stairs and out of windows.  

the bloodrush verdict  

running down all our thighs.  

the personal is political  

when my cunt is public property.  



9. remember this  



is the simplest, hardest thing to do  

support every outcome of pregnancy  

the wicked women are not going  

anywhere  

they will always send us  

back to the shadows


Kate MacAlister is a poet, medic, and feminist activist whose work interrogates language, embodiment, and resistance. She is the founder of Stimmen der Rebellion/Dengê Berxwedane/Voices of Rebellion, a multilingual community arts and literature project for women and genderqueer people. Her award-winning poetry films explore the intersections of ecology, narrative, and defiance, framing storytelling as both a site of connection and a radical act. A graduate of the Manchester Writing School under Carol Ann Duffy, she is now undertaking a PhD in Creative Writing and Medical Humanities at the University of Nottingham on the female body as anti-patriarchal resistance. Her poetry collections are published by Querencia Press and Sunday Mornings at the River.

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Mike Zimmerman