The world goes red during lady business. I’ve stained my
cloth with the dripping wine of overturned skin and they
would like me to name it shame. When it first arrived at
the girl-dawn it spilled right out and liked to think me:
woman. Hurting for the life I may one day be a home to,
as some bellied warning sign. I hide this time in hard-bone
porcelain. I can feel other cheeks turn scarlet from the glow
under the lock & steel doors. Say a prayer for the hiding. We
are the cardinal petals to sprout with no sun. Half-an-earth
away, girls wish to dress the blood in white bandage and cupped
cork. They wish to speak it into the air. Teach us out of the quiet,
& into the honey-life which knows how to heal out of dark.
