I can’t stop bleeding. 2½ monthsand my uterus with so muchto say: clots uncurling, scarlet sea creaturesin the toilet bowl,passed down slick and hot.
It’s not good to hold grudges,they solidify. Each unwanted ass grab,cat-call or dry thrust at17, 18, 19, 32.Lodged at the red centre of me.
I tantrum, twist, flail, gather purpleclover. Sip cups of tea as if plantscould change the weather.Hoping to somedaycall this catharsis,as old flesh
tears free,leaving galaxiesin every dark stain.
WISE & GOODafter Patricia Smith
Daring the worldto harm us, we undobuckles, touch wood, rattlefire escapes. We quit searchingfor decent lighting to read by,for an honest name, & thankour eyes for working at all.It is hard to focus beyond the damage.I never tried for shatterproof. Thisis my best tarnish. Thiswill not be new again. Butmy body is wise & goodand I am mostly morethan ghost.