Menstruation

When the heavenly twenty four days seem to end,

What haunts us the most?

The spectre of the rest days,

Or our limbs that are most unlikely to bend?

Sheer bloodshed at midnight,

Not because you went on a war,

Rather, your endometriosis did.

What come as presents are cramps and mood swings,

But it isn’t as smooth as a swing, a roller coaster instead.

And just when we think that it’s over,

There are eyeballs gazing at us,

Reminding to quarantine from pickles

As if, our mere sight, will make them tickle.

Chums, “those days’

Names, not unanimously chosen

Just to cloak the ‘taboo’ that still prevails

Called MENSTRUATION.

SMRITI RAI