The Jellyfish and the Menstrual Cup

splayed across the rocks          herself arrayed in fronds of mucussoaked tulle crinoline edged in salted lace          she is the cloudy red of bloodfilling the two inch silicone cup          currently suctioned to my cervixlike a limpet on a round, smooth stone

I tap the red ridges visible through          her gummy, cataracted skin-like scalpsurprisingly sturdy to my searching fingers          the fingers that reach inside myselfpull out this silicone cup,          release the blood so it poolslike the waves under her hood          where she hides the ability to strike,I wish I could

                              sting like herinstead of letting another egg sluice out          in my dreams I pack the infintismaI have scattered in toilets across the world          and once, the forest dirtof the Olympic Mountains, pack those blood wishes          into the egg sacs of moonsnailssand over still more mucus forming a slick funnel

          they are washing up on a beach somewhereas though searching for their mother snail          a scarlet jellyfish the size of a hundred nickels,a curious girl, poking and prodding for a weakness,          the egg left out.