Moon Blood (A Poem)

I hear His call in my blood

the Moon, bright pearl in the depth of night

and my body responds

wracked with pain, I bring my knees to my chest

and curse loudly, those who do not bleed

for the pain is a knife stabbing

or a hand, holding my womb in a death grip

Maddened, I want to tear parts of myself away

and fling them to the four corners of the Earth

snarling and snapping like a wolf

like a wild woman in a cave

a madness

only eased by chocolate

and small white pills

and a very hot bath

(and, at times, orgasms)

I rock, as if pulled by the tides

and cry

when all I want

is to howl with the wolves

at the pearl-bright Moon

again.

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