Cardinal Sin: A Reply to the Period Poem

Lesson number one:
Fables and nursery rhymes
Are told to children at bedtimes
As apologetics for plagues and the treachery of royal families
Which is why I’m sure Period Poems are just well-recited fibs
Meant as a cover up for mental malignancy 

 
Lesson number two:
The word "period" can cause linguistic confusion
Not unlike the word "napkin"
Because it Ends and begins something at the same time
Because it can be a culmination or A Dream Deferred -
I'd like to think that Dash or Ellipsis 

Is a more grammatically appropriate word 

 
Lesson number three:
Period Poems are  protests of patriarchy hijacked by hypocrisy
You’ve come such a long way baby
You kick us out of the kitchen
Smacked our hands if we dip our fingers in The Sauce
But way too many dudes still rule Gynecology
Still dipping fingers in The Sauce 

And when it came down to the wire, way too many of you
Picked a Pussy Grabber over a First Lady

But I imagine that’s a consequence of you letting us convince you 

That the cure for hysteria was to rip out your uterus 

Oh and that black girl magic
Didn’t work out so well when it came to Omarosa did it?

Lesson number four:

The word "amazon" is thought to linguistically mean "not having breasts"

Legend has it, that in order to be as good as a male archer

Amazon Warriors had to cut off the titty that got in the way of their bow string
These days, when a woman starts to become an Amazon,

Breast and periods are the first thing to go 

And the next thing you know
She’s lying on her husband and forging her mama’s name 

In order to make Mama pay for stolen titty implants 

Lesson number five:
Never confuse a period for sacrament
You only pray when it doesn’t show up
Go ask Onan of the Old Testament
Which bodily fluid is really the holiest of holies

Lesson number six:
The wifey stays when the hubby gets paid

So you got played
If you drank Beyonce's lemonade 

 
Lesson number seven:
Periods are not power
Real power lies in the postpartum aftermath of slave mothers impregnated by their master
Real power lies in the hand of the slave husband who raised those kids as his own
Real power is in the handful of sand
That some sistesr packed into their own vaginas
To avoid being raped by government soldiers and the KKK
Their tears mixed in with memories
To give birth to the concrete children we call our great-great-grandparents 

Lesson number eight:
One of the mothers of my faith was a 6th Century slave named Summaya
Who died the first martyr of Islam
Because she refused to reject her Lord
And so her master laid her on the desert floor
And impaled her through the uterus with his spear
The river of blood that flowed out of her, 

Gave birth to a thousand points of light
Like my daughter 

Lesson number nine:
A Kotex it’s not the Holy Grail -
Its contents are not meant for communion
But the prophet-of-prophets taught us
There exists only with women 

A real place of Solace and absolution 

 
It is not to be found running down
The inside of your thighs
In a Cardinal Red River of regret
But it is at the feet of mothers that the gates of paradise rest...

Just waiting for us to enter -
If only we stopped remembering to forget