It’s amazing to me
before flat screens
before smart phones
before AI
before women we’re even allowed to
man walked on the moon
now fifty years later
the first woman
is on a moon mission
she’s blessed it
honored the Goddess
gazed on her face
and have paved the way
for other women
to follow in her footsteps
maybe a woman
will walk on the moon
next time
feminism
Some new changes: from poetry to prose
#73. Opposites Attract. Write a scene in which two characters play opposites to each other. (from writersdigest.com)
He was like fire. She was like ice. He was open like a flame that wraps everything up in its liquid arms and snaps and picks up. She was like wood that tightens and creaks in the cold. Instead of open arms, she felt herself creeping closed and she couldn’t help it.
It started the night she heard him on that phone call. One minute she was making spaghetti and meat sauce at the stove, the next she was peering around the corner to the other room, trying not be concerned at the hushed voice and the way he bent his head into the phone. Like he was trying to hide who he was talking to.
She told herself it didn’t matter and then the conversation the next day. Before work. Her coffee hadn’t even finished brewing yet.
“I have a project after work, babe. I’ll be late. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry” he had said…like he didn’t know how to talk to a woman. Like he hadn’t been living with one for the last three years. Like he didn’t know that all she would do was worry. Worry about who he was talking to as she opened her locker at work. Like she wouldn’t be thinking about the pink lipstick she saw on his neck that one weekend when she changed out of her scrubs later that day.
Yeah, don’t worry. Well, that would be pretty fucking unlikely.
That night she tells him. As they’re standing next to the microwave. She’s waiting for her dinner to finish cooking. “I’m moving back in with my mother. I’ll take the TV. No, don’t worry. I’ll be fine by myself.”
Hi Friends,
For those of you who have been loyal readers and followers these past years, I appreciate you. As I gather content for my next few poetry book projects, I am going to try something new on here. I won’t be posting as much poetry, but in an effort to keep writing…I’m going to try to write some more prose. Right now, that looks like trying writing prompts…wherever I may find them. Who knows, maybe in the future it will move into something else. Maybe it’ll be something that will stick. Maybe I’ll give up after a few posts of writing prompts and start something else. This feels like an ending of an era for me. But also of something new.
Happy Writing!
~AJM
In case you missed it…new poetry book “Remnants” to be published December 2025!
This project is coming along!
This will be a collection of new material from the last few years exploring the ‘what’s been left behind’ from my college years, who I am now and the joys and struggles of being an adult. There are themes of feminism, mental health, self-doubt…and some silly poems about the weather, of course.

There will be more posts about this project later on in the next few months.
In case you missed it, my other poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries, can be found on Amazon here.
Hands Off
For this one, I’m adding a note here first for some context. I recently read an article about Trump suggesting “menstrual classes” for US women to help increase birth rates in America. Because you know…none of us seem to know how our bodies work. 🙄 The article was a little bit too Handsmaids Tale-ish to me, and so ludicrous that I simultaneously wanted to laugh and cry. The disgusting desire to control women’s health is just so disrespectful and alienating. I also can’t believe that it’s even happening to begin with. The ignorance and corruption. And at any rate, it also pissed me off, and so, of course, I wrote something in response to it. I wrote several stanzas, to be honest, but in the end, I only needed one.
The article, if you’re curious:
I am thirty-six years old
I know what I need
I dont need a billionaire white man
telling me how to bleed
New poetry book “Remnants” to be published December 2025!
This is a new project I’ve been working on. Spring is almost here and I’m feeling hopeful. To be published on Amazon in December 2025!
A little bit about the project…
This is a collection of new material from the last few years exploring the ‘what’s been left behind’ from my college years, who I am now and the joys and struggles of being an adult. There are themes of feminism, mental health, self-doubt…and some silly poems about the weather, of course.
I’m very excited with how this is coming together!

There will be more posts about this project later on in the next few months.
In case you missed it, my other poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries, can be found on Amazon here.
the new, new colossus
Give me your tired, your poor...
Oh, wait. I mean
Give me your old, entitled, white men, your billionaire businessmen, yearning for more money
They are the wretched refuse on our teeming shore
Send thee, only straight, white males, no persons of color, females, or transgender
The room has grown dark, and we’ve closed the door
😒😒
–AJM
selective history
how many heroes
are lost to time
because of their skin color
how many women
forgotten
because of their sex
and if you’re a woman of color
you’re a ripped page
out of someone’s notebook
trampled into obscurity
until someone with power
or money
plucks your story into the light of day
The Differences Between Men and Women
she starts her morning without regard for herself
20 mins go by
she’s taken care of others, but not her own needs
he can’t find clean pants
Unrealistic Expectations
why don’t we talk about
how
many girls
won’t discover
who they are
until they’ve become women
Just a Pinch
Every month, a woman sheds the lining of her uterus
Except, mine is scraping through me
like a sweater-rake that claws at those scratchy balls of wool
I’m shedding barbed wire and lava
Feeling red hot and deflated
Men laugh at a woman’s period
Think we’re over-exaggerating
Like that small-pinched-lie you’re told you’ll feel during a procedure
Why can’t we be honest about a woman’s pain
A woman feels pain as easy as a man succeeds
In this patriarchal society
Where a woman just bleeds
And bleeds
And bleeds
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.