For twelve years I have not been pregnant
Yet one hundred and forty four times I have thought so.
Even when the only way was through immaculate conception.
Each month I find myself wishing to bleed or not to bleed.

Therein lies the greatest difference between adam and eve
The possibility of nuturing creation in one's womb.
The miracle of life is too often distanced from the male
Taken from him when he withdraws, spent and empty.

Not so for the female, unless you're a seahorse, of course.
Men shy away from pain, mostly, women sometimes wish for it.
The belly swells in a heavy pregnant-like pose
Breasts become tender and full in readiness.

Every month we are reminded we are the carriers of the next generation.
Those that do not want the time to be now
Are cruelly flooded with hormones that attract and yearn
For the beautiful act that can make it possible.

Contraception is never a guarantee that you will not be gifted
By the great universe to nuture the future in your arms.
This twenty first century fucking frenzy will soon subside
And return to an act of love with pitiful cries. I hope.

Meanwhile, I shall continue to be reminded of my womanhood
By a week of pain, nagging doubt and emotional fragility.
Until my so-called curse comes calling with the new moon
And I often wonder to myself, what reminds the male of his essential part in creation?

Clare McWilliams

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/every-month-date-written-04-02-2008/