Poetry by Susan Darlington : Rite of Passage

Rite of Passage

It was my neighbour’s daughter who told me.
About how the older girls had hung tampons
on a willow tree near the school gate,
some slick with dark blood and tissue,
others with the palest pink shredded cotton.

It was, she said, a rite of passage.
That the girls would become women
when they could make their own offering.
That they were reclaiming menarche
from generations of secrecy and stigma.

Boys had looked on in horror, she said.
Had shouted red rag from across the yard
and then dared one another to touch the blood;
to remove the tampons and throw them around.
That’s when the teacher had appeared.

I felt a twinge of sadness when she told me.
About how my need for tampons had passed.
That fertility had been wasted on me
and that the only rite of passage left
was from spinster to thornback to crone.


Wolfpack Contributor: Susan Darlington

A Poetry Showcase by Susan Darlington

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: