On Opening a Plastic-free Sanitary Towel
I am surprised by the lack of crackle, no slap
of gaudy pink-purple wrapping, instead –
a white cocoon, lightly furred, ready
to tear like a dandelion clock. The pad
is swaddled in a milky shroud
which comes apart, wispy as albumen.
I peel, slowly, let a web form between
my fingers, then bundle it up
like a first draft and slide a foot
to the pedal bin. I know these remains
will not go to the Pacific or whale stomachs,
but they will not stop the bleeding.
Bex Hainsworth is a poet and teacher based in Leicester, UK. She won the Collection HQ Prize as part of the East Riding Festival of Words and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry Wales, The McNeese Review, Sonora Review, Nimrod, and The Rialto. Walrussey, her debut pamphlet of ecopoetry, is published by The Black Cat Poetry Press.
