This Poem Is About Endometriosis
by Jenna Hoinke
seasick inside skin
tension.
anticipation.
an ache in the lower spine promising
dawn-brought pain stretched
into
week-long binge
of midol & ibuprofen
all of which winds up
vomit-mixed in the toilet, anyway.
somewhere, someone will say
pain defines the dame
womb-wound
integral as a cat-call, or a paycheck
shortchanged.
no. chorus-congress, i must disagree,
it makes me a figure on a bedspread, pleading crucifixion,
an effigy begging to be burnt,
an effigy, begging:
oh,
what i would give to be a woman unmade.