On Blood

If you are a man, you may not want to know.
If you are a woman, you already do.

My body betrays me
every month,
sometimes twice.
I cannot count the days
because my internal calendar
seems to have slipped out with 
everything else that seeps 
around and into cotton weave 
in the dark parts of the day.

I sit in a small stall
my knees kissing the door
angry at the bright stain there
despite all the necessary and
supposedly sufficient measures taken
to staunch
this generous cave within me.

I wash my hands, scrubbing and soaping,
because it is everywhere
under my fingernails and on my thumb
even at my wrist. 
I cry while the water runs in the sink
because I still do not feel clean.

It's too much, I whisper.

It pushes against me
eager to escape. 
I cannot keep it underneath me. 
It spreads out around me 
like a heavy crimson cape.

There's nothing left to do
except to yell at everyone all day
and kick the copying machine.


  1. That is AWESOME! I mean, I feel for you, I really do, because sometime twice a month? Dude. But the poem? Awesomeness.

    Also? You seriously need to get on the pill honey. Regulate all those little flow problems. Or even better, do what I do and skip the placebo pills and only have one 4 times a year.

  2. Girl, I am about to go on a 6 month honeymoon and I'm not seeing a period the entire time!! Woohoo! So this was the last one and I feel like my body knew that and decided to show me who's boss.


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