Sarah Sassoon

LET US TALK ABOUT THE BLOOD

What is this blood
my son screams

The dog drags bloodied beaten
cotton from the bathroom bin
into the lounge
up the stairs
ravished entrails of ripped
ruined tampons

How do I explain
his mother’s blood
all that bleeds

My mother handed me a book
like she felt nothing
my grandmother asked me if it hurt
I want to tell her it hurts like hell
but she’s gone

Something’s dead

I want to look into my son’s bright eyes
and say
be a man who respects blood