Growing

My wilting heart
The bleeding mess
That drips between her legs
She belongs to One
Where did You go
Why does He let her stray
My wilting heart
The bleeding mess
That stains beneath her feet
She owes only One
Why did You go
When does He plan to prey
My wilting heart
The bleeding mess
That runs within her veins
She serves just One
When did You go
What does He stay away

pining for a missing tampon?

Hello,

Your poem deserves a comment-- perhaps one more objective
than one I am about to give. But here I am.

This poem 'pains' the page with images of a slow wilting away,
or melting away by elemental double-allowance; that is, if the
lady in the poem is determined to cross her sentences with
obscure pronoun references -- me, she, you, he. One reader,
attending to some liminal archetype, sees a wrap of androgyne;
another reads it as following some unpleasant contretemp, a
confession to the self split into two people, one male, one fe-
male.

The poem has a frightening aspect. It unsettles.

Thanks for the post. I learned something from this poem
and something about the poet.

Delighted,
H.



My wilting heart
The bleeding mess
That drips between her legs
She belongs to One
Where did You go
Why does He let her stray
My wilting heart
The bleeding mess
That stains beneath her feet
She owes only One
Why did You go
When does He plan to prey
My wilting heart
The bleeding mess
That runs within her veins
She serves just One
When did You go
What does He stay away