how I respond when asked about my hysterectomy

by Erica Anderson-Senter

Bracing body: one hand, palm to wall, other hand, other palm and press. 

Again with each wave. Again —

Standing was fabled-action — myth for the un-bleeding. When I remember,

I see sickle, I see scythe — bent and small and blue from no breath. 

Bouquet of women bloom in panties. I was one. I was a she whose body 

brought blood but it was a different kind: a purple, a bruise, 

clots and yes, I held, tenderly the clumps of congealed menses.

I would pray to them, ask them to end. 

How can I know love in body when my body bit down and held on —

I could withstand the black dog of my full blood moon, but why?

I birthed my own defunct organ after I begged my god-my doctor:

Take the thing that causes the thing that takes my knees, my breath, 

my sheets, my underwear, my nights, my peace, my-life-my-life-my-life. 

Erica Anderson-Senter writes from Fort Wayne, IN. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Midwestern Poet's Incomplete Guide to Symbolism, was published by EastOver Press in 2021. Her work has also appeared in Midwest Gothic, Dialogist, and One Art. She has her MFA from Bennington College.