Oestrogen Mythology
Beware, for she writes poetry, and ye
Unwitting pilgrim, may become a king
Anointed at the new moon, in the spring
Within an oestrogen mythology
Take care, for she writes poetry, and thee
Good man, may move her blood and heart to sing
Be crowned with oak leaves, bound within the ring
Become her ovulation fantasy
She fair may be, but subject to the pull
Of hormones, gravity, and tidal flow
She makes her heroes, though unconsciously
From those who touch her when the moon is full
She’ll cry and tear her hair out when you go
And pen progesterone tragedy
© Gail Foster 7th September 2016
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