As my state legislators debate whether or not I and many other people who live here deserve full autonomy over our bodies, I decided to try to put my rage down in words. If you’ve read When We Were Forgotten, then you know how I feel about reproductive rights. This time, my anger needed the beauty of poetry to be fully realized.

A pair of feet in white sneakers stands on a beach as a wave comes ever closer. Over the image, a poem reads:
My Salt is My Own

We are oceans
Salt blood environments where life has
The potential to thrive
Beneath jaded ripples

“You are oceans,”
Decreed by those who see oceans as
Things to extract from
Until they drown in
The very thing they
Tried to control

We crash against the shores of existence
To remind them
To remind them
We are oceans, after all.
Copyright (c) Amanda Cook, 2022"

I sold another tiny story, and it’s going to be released in a very cool way. I’ll let you know when it’s available.

In the meantime, take care of yourselves. Be kind to your fellow human beings.

And, as always, thanks for reading.

A. Cook

Amanda Cook is a writer and stay at home mom who lives in a southern Indiana woods with her spouse, kids, and one clingy dog. In the Before Times (and sometimes even now), she could/can be found helping out with her kids' school, catching up on her toppling TBR pile, playing games with her friends, hanging out at virtual conventions, crying over period dramas, or sewing yet another cosplay. Her second novel, "When We Were Forgotten," was the winner of the 2018 Bronze Medal for Best Sci-fi/Fantasy/Horror E-Book from the Independent Publisher Book (IPPY) Awards. She writes short speculative fiction and poetry that can be found at various markets and here on her blog.

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