boy laughs at my period-stained skirt
By Dianna Vega
you’ll listen to what i’ll say.
red is the absolute color
of nature. red is the passing
of your first baby tooth, the
moon steeping in dahlias
like anise tea, blood flowering
down my legs. the mineral
parfum of mother nature’s
sole mother. before men
imagined wars, there was
a bleeding woman. don’t
you try to shame me,
i’m agent of one and each
of my emotions. don’t
look at me through tepid
feathers. i’m no mourning
dove to hunt. you could bite
your tongue and not taste
birth and death—they
start at red, rosewood,
carmine. do hold
your untethered thoughts
unspoken and unheard.
i understand
this body’s power.
Source: Poetry (January/February 2025)