Menopausal Poetry Series

Because I love poetry, and there are so few poems about menopause out there, I have dug deep into my computer files and pulled out a series from over ten years ago when I was in the throes of it.

Here's one:

Three little pills and a Pomegranate

Muse on the table

are you food or drink?

Three little pills on my yellow placemat:

One clever red clover

renders me immune to restlessness,

cures insomnia.

Vitamin B mitigates “the change”,

Calcium Citrate coats the nerves,

protects the children from swinging

moods, banged doors.

Biting into a shiny red orb allowed

Persephone to see her mother half the year.

My prying fingers reveal a messy beehive

of oblong kernels.

Mouth puckers as crystal blobs,

nutty & tart, stain my fingers rouge.

Will it make me mortal to eat these seeds?

Already I have become human

in my daughter’s eyes.

I told Katie that her cat died.

Rocking in darkness

comforted us both.