TMMY PHTOG CC
As I Live and Bleed
I soapbox my zoom conference
with a radical feminist statement
that I’m on a first day period vibe.
I unplug the webcam in dramatic
protest for my menstrual migraine,
and I don’t care if this is an overshare.
Because I don’t consent to silencing
hormones that storm my body louder
than white people who love orange
presidents. The back cramps and codeine
have turned my mouth into a nightclub
toilet after all the vomit.
My bathmat is a whodunit on a women’s
murder channel. Was it the husband?
The ex? The garden gnome? Plot twist…
It was my vagina!
A crime scene of blood where I stood
unarmed after trickling water between
gently parted cheeks, and it burns, burns,
burns, sang Cash during the aftermath
of June’s period poops.
Last week I saw a t-shirt that read:
I don’t trust anything that bleeds
for five days and does not die,
worn by a man buying wank tissues
in bulk and browsing the ready-meal
aisle in Tesco. I thought to stuff his face
into a tikka masala and scream,
nobody puts womb in the corner!
It grew your sorry ass! Bitch!
Then he would kneel before my lining
as it leaks its sacred wisdom
into its third pair of undies today
and worship the unfertilised egg
that breaks down like my voice
when a colleague brags about
eating KFC for lunch and I weep
for the chickens. Because I am:
unstable, unbalanced, unpredictable.
Imagine the nuclear buttons that would
be pressed if menstruators led countries.
Like men haven’t started all wars
by playing a game of my dick
is bigger than yours. Like we are
to name our pain, demand
five days paid leave, free sanitary
products or death to sexist jokes.
No. We want a farer workplace
like, sorry Dave, my oestrogen
is low today, do it your fucking
self, and if the big boys won’t play
nice with our rebellion,
we’ll reverse Handmaid’s Tale
this shit, and keep only the best sperm
for our queerspawn, and we will thrive
in our emotionally charged utopia
led by PMS and
During lockdown, Carson adopted a cat to live like an eccentric writer, but now spends most of their time salvaging the poems her keyboard paws delete - rather than actually writing them. Surviving work can be found in Stone of Madness Press, Kissing Dynamite, and Brag Magazine amongst others.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.