New Poetry

A Margarita 

Light is too light. And dark is night.

Someone has drained all of your 

estrogen.  I mean sucked it all

OUT. Maybe in the middle of the night.

You start to shiver. But you’re not cold. 

Fact of the matter is you don’t know 

what you are but cold isn’t it.

Let’s just say you feel like screaming 

at no one in particular.

You feel mildly impaired until you realize

MILDLY doesn’t get it.

And then there’s the sweating. 

Let’s not even talk about that. 

It goes on forever and you say to yourself

you better get used to it. Or snap out of it.  

Or something. No one told you it was 

going to be like this. Like

you need your hormones back. ASAP.  

You need your old body back. But

No. You don’t feel like starting over.  

You feel like ditching and then realize 

that’s why they put hormones on a patch

that you stick on your skin. Like the colors

of a rainbow. Or the color of sky.  Like hugs.

You smile. You start to feel independent 

again. You calm down. A little.  Maybe this 

won’t be so bad after all. You feel like 

a Margarita. 

(C) 2023 Jan Darrow

photo: Pixabay