BLEED IN THE AMAZON

I love the silent sound of my blood trickle
there is nothing better than the knowing
that my womb is RIPE and thick and ALIVE
though it hurts – the swelling is uncomfortable
like the hunter had put stones in my stomach and sewn it shut

but the stains in my pants, my skirt, and the seat
confirm to the whole world – SHE BLEEDS!

That must mean I am mortal, or at least
made of the same substance of life
– you can test the blood type!
You know I am still able to impregnate
should a suitable goldfish swim up the narrow gates
into the holiest holy
where I let no one else
but from where
I dance
I channel poetry
I inspire my life as the life of my womb inspires me

I love to bleed.

*

Once I concentrate and release the muscles
that seem to struggle to hold the vagina like a cup
to catch every drop and then splurt it out when I gasp, laugh
or something unexpected happens

So, I’d rather focus and relax, let go
of any shame
these white pants are the first sacrifice to my cause:

to wear my blood with honor

let it stain and soak and stir the minds of people
like it stirs my bowl.

Look, my blood is beautiful
the color of roses and savage soil
and I can paint your portrait
though I’d rather give it
to this earth jungle
as a thanksgiving for everything

my blood, with love, to thee Big momma

*

Let the river have a taste
since Im taking this 16hour cruise
down to further lengths of more moist jungle flora
in the womb of America, I flow.

I feel the pain she must feel
and the releaving, the purge
of all that has passed, let it flow down, down
and away, to some further distance
Amazon has a long genital system
we must be just little blood cells in her swelling uterus
still in the tube, not the main room
and what life shall we carry this month, my moon?

I wish to make more space for myself, to spread open
have a chalice ready, to drip all day into
and then pour to the river
to excite the piranhas
wake them from slumber with this wonder
a female who’s cycle is ready
to give life out into the world
and spread this poem long
just like the river

And my trickle
fickle, everytime
she comes unannounced
like suddenly deciding today is a good day to let go
the lessons have been learnt, digested
and ready to be spread into the world

I am not in charge of my cycle
but I am starting to notice the wisdom
the reoccurring patterns
a burst of excitement I’ve had for few days before
important life decisions
new loves appearing
she is making space, like a spring cleaning
a new womb awaits a daring lover
fresh and virginal and so dangerously delicious.

Like an old, wise queen I wish to bleed
for my people, for my kingdom
for abundance, for integrity
for LIBERTY to do so FREELY!

BLEED in the streets
BLEED at home in bed
BLEED in the company of my mistress
BLEED with the river
unashamed
*

Seventh of March 2017

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