My ode to growing old gracefully.

The Thought Harpy

Ode to Menopause

Her fan cuts the air 
The flutter of angry bird wings 
In terror flight, into the gloom of night 
She embraces the CHANGE 
With sweat, 
Hair drips, 
And a vociferous, "Puta madre!" 
Echoes, echoes...

Skin, a sacrificial immolation 
An offering to the Diosa de las Viejas.Coyolxauhgui -- goddess of the moon --has abandoned her, 
Carried off on the flush and whiffle of wings, 
Returned to the glorious moon where lovers reign

The golden bells upon her cheeks, faded 
Replaced with the folds
Of her Earth Mother, Coatlicue 
Ancient rocks and crevices 
Filled with secrets 
Filled with song 
Memories, the trail on her journey 
Like ribbons and seeds left behind 
To mark her sojourn, 
As evidence, that 
She was moist with wetness, 

This pinche cosa called, MENOPAUSE 
No vieja sleeps tonight 
A guardian of dream shadows 
Seca, Peppered with brownish-rose colored spots Where things were…

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Author: Juliette Kings

I'm a mom, artist and writer, living in California. and

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