ODE TO MENOPAUSE

ODE TO MENOPAUSE © 2015 Diana Noquetzal Garcia Her fan cuts the air The flutter of angry bird wings In terror flight, into the gloom of night She embraces the CHANGE With sweat, Hair drips, And a vociferous, "Puta madre!" Echoes, echoes. Skin, a sacrificial immolation An offering to the Diosa de las Viejas. Coyolxauhgui -- goddess of the moon -- has abandoned her, Carried off on the flush and whiffle of wings, Returned to the glorious moon where lovers reign The golden bells on her cheeks, faded Replaced with the folds Of her Earth Mother, Coatlicue Ancient rocks and crevices Filled with secrets Filled with song Memories, the trail on her journey Like ribbons and seeds left behind To mark her sojourn, As evidence, that She was moist with wetness, Once. This pinche cosa called, MENOPAUSE No vieja sleeps tonight A guardian of dream shadows Seca, Peppered with brownish-rose colored spots Where things were once supple and smooth, In her salad days. When golden light embraced, Those in proximity of her. Yet, youth was nothing but the larvae Of the real beauty to emerge This stage of being, a chrysalis, Like the browns and greens of Earth Mother, She will be protected thus. Ahhhhhh, the transformation into imago, Like gossamer wings, and translucent skin of abuelitas. Children will love touching the softness And revel in soothing words, Like the coo of a morning dove And slumber on sagging breasts Butterflies will pour out of her mouth To tell stories and sing songs, She will be transformed: Into ochers, burnt umber Ghost yellow,
Hues of mimosa, And sleepy oranges. She will be loved, All over again.