It’s Called a Period

a poetic lamentation

Photo by Aline Nadai from Pexels

It’s called a period

but how many times

do we have the fortune

of it being only a

statement;

It’s called a period

but how many times

would we like

the exclamation point

vibrating with immense pressure

quaking our uterine walls

cramping, crimping, and cringing

bloody waterfall of tissues

to unwedge itself from our craw

and embrace us in parentheses

of heating pad, hot bath or shower,

and/or food craving;

It’s called a period

but how many times

is it a question mark

slithering down the leg

outside of the bedtime fashioned canoe pad

or dripping from the the overflowing tampon

leaving us to wonder why

we still have a uterus;

It’s called a period

but how many times

do we want to ellipses and/or dash

our way out of everything…