I am well-trained,
even at forty.
Be discreet.
The pads are stashed.
A secure location–
pockets and purses are other weapons
of protection.
I hope for an empty restroom
and unwrap the packaging
like a timid teenager,
even at forty.
Flow and leaks
are profanities
not supposed to exist
outside of that closed stall.
We are required to handle
this common bond
alone.
I hesitate, even at forty,
to bring light to the dark.
Don’t say the word.
A suitable substitute
must be used, even at forty.
Don’t make others uncomfortable.
And yet, even at forty,
I feel the discomfort.
Silent rules pursue me,
even at forty, an age that gives me
the right to disregard these rules
about women’s bodies.
Even at forty, I cannot unlearn
these things that have silenced me.
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Deirdre Garr Johns resides in South Carolina with her family. Nature is an inspiration, and poetry is a first love. Much of her work is inspired by memories of people and places. Her poetry has appeared in Sylvia Magazine, South Carolina Bards Poetry Anthology, Eunoia Magazine, Nymeria Magazine, Sasee Magazine, and more. Her website is amuseofonesown.com.
Latest posts by Deirdre Garr Johns (see all)
- Even at Forty - 24th February 2023
- The turning of the air is slight - 3rd March 2021