Editor's Note
Dear Reader,
[Megaphone on.]
Diversity. Equity. Inclusion.
[Megaphone off.]
West Trestle Review’s support for DEI isn’t new, but our Poetry Reader is – Emma Belles! We’re very excited to have Emma shaping the journal with us, beginning with the September 2025 issue. All submission categories are open for said issue – please send us your work and tell your friends about us, too!
For now, here’s our March 2025 issue.
I didn’t set out to curate it around a specific theme, but when the poems we chose earlier for the issue started to cluster, I ran with it for the rest of our selection process.
In one way or another, half of the poems in this issue engage with mothers, motherhood, and pregnancy. The cover art also invites a Mother Nature interpretation that fits the semi-focus.
Since we only publish work by women and non-binary individuals, it’s not surprising to see these topics recur in our submission queue. Yet, this is the first time we’ve intentionally gathered maternity-related poems into a single issue.
I just turned 30 and, with less than a year to go (gods willing) before I finish my PhD and begin a professional career, motherhood is also on my mind. When will I recover enough from graduate school to be fit to be a mother of humans? Will I receive the medical treatment I need if I (want to) become pregnant in the next four years? Especially with a condition that messes with my fertility? What are the risks if I wait another four (or more) years? Do I want to consider adopting instead of (or in addition to) having biological children?
(Why) do I even want to have children/be a mother in the first place?
I don’t have good answers to any of these questions, especially the last one. There’s a difference between actively wanting to have children, versus not wanting to miss out on having children. Honestly, I’m closer to the latter right now. I’m not here to judge anyone’s reasons for having children, but I don’t think this FOMO, in a sense, should be good enough to convince me. And yet, the “fear” in FOMO is there. It’s a bit ironic to say that when many similar-aged and older women in my circles are not mothers. I don’t want that to be my justification for not having children, either.
While I dislike patriarchal pressure from the phrase “biological clock,” I believe in acknowledging that I won’t always have the capacity to birth and raise children, assuming I live to my life expectancy of 79. More and more, it seems that where I am in my life, along with where we are in history, might be exactly the wrong combination for me to have children.
Luckily(?), it hasn’t been my lifelong dream to marry a cute husband and have cute kids with him that we raise together in a cute suburban home. (NOT knocking anyone who did/does have that dream!) However, I welcome(d) that scenario as a possible life trajectory, and watching it shimmer fainter and fainter isn’t very comforting. “Grief” feels like too strong of a word, but maybe there’s an element of it here. An anticipation of grief?
Anyway, I envy the women who are sure they don’t want to have children. My brain’s eye is hungry; it wants to see all the options on the table for as long as possible. I’m trying to remind myself that being a mother is only one option, and many others involve caring for future generations without raising humans of my own.
While I ponder those options and tend to my plants, here are 16 stunning poems for your reading pleasure by Tiffany Aurelia, Fleur Lyamuya Beaupert, Genevieve Creedon, Natasha Deonarain, Violeta Garza, Reyzl Grace, Jasmin Lankford, Danèlle Lejeune, Kika Man, Nupur Maskara, Danielle McMahon, Ana W. Migwan, Sara Pirkle, Sayantani Roy, Sabrina Spence, and Jessica Walsh. With deft brush strokes, Claire Tang unites the presentation of these poems in her oil on canvas painting, Pushing Up Daisies.
Please enjoy this issue as a light in the darkness – literally, if you’re reading this on your phone in bed after you’ve turned the lights off. Though in that case, may we gently suggest (just a suggestion, no pressure!) that you get some rest now and continue reading on a larger-screened device tomorrow? :)
Yours,
Katherine Huang
EIC pro tempore, West Trestle Review
[Megaphone on.]
Diversity. Equity. Inclusion.
[Megaphone off.]
West Trestle Review’s support for DEI isn’t new, but our Poetry Reader is – Emma Belles! We’re very excited to have Emma shaping the journal with us, beginning with the September 2025 issue. All submission categories are open for said issue – please send us your work and tell your friends about us, too!
For now, here’s our March 2025 issue.
I didn’t set out to curate it around a specific theme, but when the poems we chose earlier for the issue started to cluster, I ran with it for the rest of our selection process.
In one way or another, half of the poems in this issue engage with mothers, motherhood, and pregnancy. The cover art also invites a Mother Nature interpretation that fits the semi-focus.
Since we only publish work by women and non-binary individuals, it’s not surprising to see these topics recur in our submission queue. Yet, this is the first time we’ve intentionally gathered maternity-related poems into a single issue.
I just turned 30 and, with less than a year to go (gods willing) before I finish my PhD and begin a professional career, motherhood is also on my mind. When will I recover enough from graduate school to be fit to be a mother of humans? Will I receive the medical treatment I need if I (want to) become pregnant in the next four years? Especially with a condition that messes with my fertility? What are the risks if I wait another four (or more) years? Do I want to consider adopting instead of (or in addition to) having biological children?
(Why) do I even want to have children/be a mother in the first place?
I don’t have good answers to any of these questions, especially the last one. There’s a difference between actively wanting to have children, versus not wanting to miss out on having children. Honestly, I’m closer to the latter right now. I’m not here to judge anyone’s reasons for having children, but I don’t think this FOMO, in a sense, should be good enough to convince me. And yet, the “fear” in FOMO is there. It’s a bit ironic to say that when many similar-aged and older women in my circles are not mothers. I don’t want that to be my justification for not having children, either.
While I dislike patriarchal pressure from the phrase “biological clock,” I believe in acknowledging that I won’t always have the capacity to birth and raise children, assuming I live to my life expectancy of 79. More and more, it seems that where I am in my life, along with where we are in history, might be exactly the wrong combination for me to have children.
Luckily(?), it hasn’t been my lifelong dream to marry a cute husband and have cute kids with him that we raise together in a cute suburban home. (NOT knocking anyone who did/does have that dream!) However, I welcome(d) that scenario as a possible life trajectory, and watching it shimmer fainter and fainter isn’t very comforting. “Grief” feels like too strong of a word, but maybe there’s an element of it here. An anticipation of grief?
Anyway, I envy the women who are sure they don’t want to have children. My brain’s eye is hungry; it wants to see all the options on the table for as long as possible. I’m trying to remind myself that being a mother is only one option, and many others involve caring for future generations without raising humans of my own.
While I ponder those options and tend to my plants, here are 16 stunning poems for your reading pleasure by Tiffany Aurelia, Fleur Lyamuya Beaupert, Genevieve Creedon, Natasha Deonarain, Violeta Garza, Reyzl Grace, Jasmin Lankford, Danèlle Lejeune, Kika Man, Nupur Maskara, Danielle McMahon, Ana W. Migwan, Sara Pirkle, Sayantani Roy, Sabrina Spence, and Jessica Walsh. With deft brush strokes, Claire Tang unites the presentation of these poems in her oil on canvas painting, Pushing Up Daisies.
Please enjoy this issue as a light in the darkness – literally, if you’re reading this on your phone in bed after you’ve turned the lights off. Though in that case, may we gently suggest (just a suggestion, no pressure!) that you get some rest now and continue reading on a larger-screened device tomorrow? :)
Yours,
Katherine Huang
EIC pro tempore, West Trestle Review
|
 |
Support the work of women and non-binary poets by making a donation today to West Trestle Review. For more information about West Trestle Review's finances, see our "About" page.