The Pump

I was under it - the pump

Not in a held, contrived, worker-boss sort of way

But in a fleshly, internal and body wanting to

move fluid sort of way - the

yummy, gushy, blood, semen, fluid

transfer systems of this house

of tissue, muscle walls and a drug

lab of concoctions all swirling

in their monthly cycles.

Our bodies are incredible beings

each doing their own thing

28 days-ish for the menstrual cycle

and my male friend tells me

he has a cycle too - does not

want to be left out of this conversation.

We are all unique in our bodily being

some slower, some faster - this

terrible race

to homegeniality - to being the same

creates so much fear when you

are an outlier

Why am I late?

Is mine supposed to be this big,

this small?

make this sound?

feel like this?

All drummed in to our domestication project

to make our bodies easier to manage

via a fixed, mechanical system

Mechanics is not like our fluid flesh

is not a cacophony of ever changing

rearranging - scar tissue,

healing,

engorgement - then release

Our bodies are sacred temples and

the way we each work is

a sacred mystery and needs such tending.