Wombwork

My cunt bleeds red with each new moon. 
The sky starts over and soon life starts again in me too, 
and my cunt gushes out crimson. 
Stripping away layers of lost chances from the center of my being and replenishing me with fresh beginnings. 
My cunt bleeds with each new moon and the stars, the brightest, are each cell bright red and true, filling my cup. And in that blood is healing power. The power to create expels from my womb, is birthed into the world, and flushed down the toilet. 
Well, when the moon is born next, my cunt’ll bleed too and I’ll take that moon’s wine and drizzle it all over this land—a blessing, an offering from the fertile crescent within me, with each new moon. 
My cunt bleeds and I am relieved. This is a red blood spilled from my black body worth celebrating. It is a victory against the coercion of red blood from black bodies by those in blue; against an empire built from white picket fences whose white stakes are lodged in the jugulars of black and brown bodies across the face of this pale blue dot. 
My cunt bleeds and I am excited. I wish to see black streets run red with the blood of joy, of love, of life. 
My cunt bleeds and I am thankful to be a living prayer. 
In the name of The Mother, The Daughter, and Her Holy Ghost. 
Amen. 

 

 

Paris Weslyn