The Breaking of the
Blood
It is very clear to me,
as it is clear to all
of us,
that memory
of the first trace of
blood.
It was a surprise,
as it is always a
surprise,
for each woman
who comes upon herself
with the breaking of
the blood.
And I thought as I
gazed
at my blood upon the
water
of the time
when reaching
into fine white snow
my hand found glass.
I thought
of a child’s
fairytale
of a queen at a window
wishing herself a child
snow-white
and lips of blood.
This poem was first
published in Grandchildren of Albion ed. Michael
Horovitz
