fertile rite

moon
drawn down
you squeeze
you pull
you draw
thick blood running
rivers between my thighs
you rub my uterus raw

red moon during night time

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Fall thoughts for poetry —random language

as I turn 52 this month I’ve been thinking about menopause a bit….I skipped this month….my eggs are no longer plentiful…..yet my desire to couple does not cease….Sex really is far beyond procreative meaning…..I will miss the power of blood when I reach the point of becoming Crone…..but this understanding of being a woman who is magical surpasses the womb…..a poem is coming to the surface……