R.M. Carlson

tiny bare toes
zip-ties cut into tender skin
loose-limbed, heads lolling
slammed together
naked skin flinching
cold metal of a box truck

Still We Come

predators pacing
circling
leaning in
bullets shatter glass, enter skull
blood dribbles down onto chin, chest
fucking bitch

Still We Come

woman shrinks
a rabbit flattening to the pavement
staring at black boots
white collared shepherd steps in:
take me instead
strapped goon, pupils dilated
points his piece at the pastor in cuffs
you afraid now?
eyes level, unshakable: hell, no
agent: you’re white—
you won’t be any fun anyway

Still.
We.
Come.

R.M. Carlson’s work has appeared in Record of Dissent: Poems of Protest in an Authoritarian Age (2025), What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On (2026), and Uprooted: Poems of Resistance, Witness, and Survival (2026), all from The Chaos Section Poetry Project, as well as #MEAction’s #MillionsMissing 2026 social media campaign and Poem City 2026 (Kellogg-Hubbard Library, Montpelier, Vermont). After decades away, writing has become her home—and she has a lot to say. She chronicles the natural world, social justice, chronic illness, and humanity. She extends her middle finger toward fascism.

This poem appears in Uprooted: Poems of Resistance, Witness, and Survival (The Chaos Section Poetry Project, Fall 2026). We’re sharing each poem from the collection individually over the coming weeks. You can read the full book or download the free PDF here.