25 Jan 2018

every month

Every month
my female severs the pink velvet ribbons that bind her
The quiet calm prairie, turns into a gruesome battle field
a hibernating black bear, disturbed 
a beehive, harassed and shook
She awakens in a pool of dark red blood, disgruntled
My modest breasts, two voluptuous, snarling wolves
My dormant uterus, a two-headed venomous snake,
My tender white orchid, a fierce, carnivorous flower
Sorrowful, angry, and confused
she weeps;
something like a cry of loneliness
something like a love song
something like a violent threat
her soft, placid canary, a haggard squinting vulture    
enraged and fiery, she wishes she can smash her womb
her womb
an empty vase, with no flower in it