The Blood Goblet

Hear the news,

an oddity to the norm,

but great treasure to those who hear and find.

You writhe and wail,

beating your breast

as your body swells

and lets.

Poured out,

empty,

searching.

You were once a stench in a land with dripping sackcloth.

Now take and insert a truth most, especially Westerners, find repulsive.

The adjustment period will last a few cycles,

but a dawn is coming when you will forget the days of old;

Days filled with rubbish depravity.

You’ll discover the minor investment

pays grand dividends.

No longer will you feel the grime

of reeking cotton and clumped flesh.

In fact, you may even forget the device

which enables a woman to go forth to a fuller, less stressful life.

Although the curse ushered forth pain for the woman,

there is something that will alleviate the ordeal slightly.

If anything, it makes the process bearable.

For if this is my lot

I’ll purchase a box

that affords me reprieve from frequent changes and constant odor.

So to all women in my like state,

I pass on this message:

Find and buy a “goblet for blood”—a menstrual cup.

[This is not what you anticipated, I’m sure.  The cup is a little bit of menstrual salvation in my opinion, if that counts for anything.  Hopefully this doesn’t sound like heresy since I’m making this device sound seemingly like the Holy Grail.  This is probably one of the reasons I shouldn’t be allowed on the internet and be forced into off-grid living.]

 

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2 Replies to “The Blood Goblet”

  1. Interesting poem! I’m glad you explained at the end because I’ve never used one and wouldn’t have understood!

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