Menses

Elizabeth Helmich
Aug 8, 2017 · 2 min read

a love story for women

Your eyes shriek at the bitter edge again,
rabid dogs biting through chains of reason,
come over, I plead

Come over tonight, I call out your lousy excuses,
I’ll swallow all your swarms, and think,
we’ll dance in the belly of your storm

STOMP

The men hear the quake coming, usually knowing
better then to ask, for valid reason —
there’s no safe way to wake a dragon

Either it’s a yes with some serious side eye,
or a no with a pillow torpedo
launched at their head

SHAKE

We are Goddesses without a throne,
yet this world is too busy to honor
women for being warriors

Who shed off our being, rebuilding
tumbled insides month after month,
workings slaughtered again

JUMP

Except there are no more red tents, no celebrations,
no sleepless nights of women bundled together
in a red hot fury

Of stalwart dynamite, twined with supports
from each story bled out there, gone…
an intimate cleanse of sharing

BEATS

Blessed events of womanhood, birthing singular,
not plural for most, cycles are another thing
to gripe about

Like moon rhythms weeping, or spindly weeds
of an unruly garden, our tales grow out,
stubbornly refusing to budge

POUND

The men steer clear, when they should embrace
us even deeper, since a woman rooted deep
in the earth is a sacred force

Haven’t they grasped this truth by now?
Felt pheromones change, draw up mica, to mix
with the carnality of her clay

SURGE

Into her passion, fires of the tiger lily,
stamen freed to propagate, to lift up
those feelings locked beneath wings

Let them out, let it all out,
you will cry for withheld words no more —
howl, my love, howl…bleed

RELEASE

Your weary head fits this space on my pillow,
I share my secret chocolate, make you laugh
’til your side splits over what’s gone

We empty the sangria, crimson lips whisper,
you’re mine…all mine…here, now
we shout out the lyrics to our fight song

REST

Burn the sage down to the nub, smoke exhumes
those prickly names we dare never speak
over the spiked gaze of day

Hands cover our eyes, when we forget the words,
we’ll write the next ones, every time you open up
and call us home.


Elizabeth Helmich

Written by

writing outside the lines to connect dots

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