men bleed        cartilage wrenching bump     nose splitting

cupped hand full of teeth     and manly curses     still photographs

            the wet smell of sweat and churned grass

women bleed    soft-tissue injuries      hidden in A-line dresses

squatting over the toilet bowl    blood dripping   quickly  to the cubicle

breath out and in     firm fingers pushing     as I blossom      fall

two minutes    two more minutes     ‘til the end of lunch
we have waited  two long years  for the end of monthly curses

            for a belly to quicken   breasts to blossom

brown nipples to be on proud display in bandage dresses   or oversized

sweatshirts      listing south    a longing for mangoes

things pungent and dripping   juice licked from fingers     pushing

yellow flesh     one hand above and one below       the bump   on proud display

 in photographs         a human cello       perfect pitch and tone
the doctor produces a specimen cup with a silent flourish

mouths platitudes   solemn pitch and tone    points out the cubicle

as I count down the silent minutes 	worry at my lip

with nervous teeth      up up   halfway towards the sign: occupied

            then opened   the forgotten blossom

of true desire	 red lines through monthly dates     a calendar’s siren song

remembered days when we walked through honey  haunting cello
the accompaniment to summer picnics    in the grass    me riding you

breath in and out   out and in 	your shocked tone       oh shit  and then my name

fumbled hands pulling    I look down then up	      pungent dripping

            your blood-red thighs and belly     another month wasted   impossible

my body’s long silence    looking up at the sun          my eyes     blood and honey

it’s not only men      who bleed          lovers who blossom  and fall

but women like me     curses      in chorus  and song     two long years and nothing