Mother’s Day

The blood
Marks me
As a woman incapable
Of mothering
Every moon

On cruciform sanitary pad
Growing stain
Reminding me
Of my irrelevance

I bleed internally
From excess womb
Invisible wound
Evidenced by bloated belly
Looks ripe but is empty

Embattled within
No red cross protects me
From enemy fire
I haemorrhage with ease
And lose credibility

One comment

  1. Reblogged this on Feminist Confessional and commented:

    For the women out there who cannot be biological mothers (but want to be) and for those of you who have been through pregnancy loss. My thoughts and love are with you today.


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