I was ten, when I first bled. Pads, slung
between my legs, soaked up red blooms.
Once a month, excused from games,
I carried a maroon bucket-bag to school
filled with fresh towels, and paper bags
for soiled ones. The stale, metallic smell
stank; Flooded by grim shame; terrified
the boys might wrench my tote, awful,
and malodorous, from my clammy hands
and empty my dignity onto the tarmac
of our playground.
I aspired to kick shins
hard, to warn them off before they started,
but as a good girl, my fantasy was stillborn.
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in web magazines and in print anthologies. She is a Pushcart and Forward Prize nominee. Her first chapbook 'Cerddi Bach (Little Poems), was published in 2019 by Hedgehog Press. She is developing practice as a participatory arts facilitator, mainly working with elders and intergenerational groups. She believes everyone’s voice counts.
Latest posts by Ceinwen E Cariad Haydon (see all)
- On the Rag: No Bins, No Incinerator [1962] - 9th February 2023
- Saturnalia - 18th December 2022
- Hope That’s Okay? - 15th December 2021