Title: Menstruation
Author: Heather P.

Bleed me dry
with eggs of woe,

As they slip down my throat
and descend deep into forever,

But always wither and die
never to be outshone by wet bone cracking,

Never to be needed and right
within this eternal womb of mind and fibrous being,

Protest and praise these lotus feet
with each toe filled with the glory of all the backs I have stepped on,

But they are wounded petals, yes
from all of the feet that have stepped on me.