every woman knows

how to wash

blood from cloth

so it disappears

you might see the shadow of the stain

if you know how to look

oh, we hear the whispers

secret shames, not saying names

like we know the ache of

cold hands

cracked with soap

to soak blood away

tendrils shift and flow but

no, never be new again

blood, blood, indelible and

has War been declared?

or merely a parable

as we breathe battle cries

in soft, lipstick-smears


don’t underestimate the touch

the shrill, strident, bossy, quiet, nurturing clamour

of those who ken


to out blood

because we know how

know when,

oh, me too

minor, major, doesn’t matter

the wound sits

dark, underneath

and maybe it’s time

to win a battle

crack silence, a shot


take a little ground

do not, do not, underestimate the power

of those whose life is bound

in blood and shadows

do you feel it? The rising awe, the gore

I can taste blood. Blood! I can taste

a shift. blood


I can taste…




Added to dVerse open link night


  1. Love what you did here with that blood… I once read a crime story where the detective made it clear that the bloodstains remaining on a cloth proved that the murderer was a man… every woman knows how to get the blood away

  2. As a man i applaud your expertise, pragmatism, and victory. All I know about blood stains is to get it to cold water ASAP. The shape and verve of this piece is excellent wordsmithing.

  3. Cool resolve… just short of a declaration of war, but still powerful. The flow of this reads like ominous stormclouds gathering momentum. Loved this.

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