the letter I wish my mother had written me

dear child

your uterus hates you
and betimes
may collude with your vagina
and other parts
to make your life
a parade of strange fuckery

don't stand naked in
the bathroom
brushing your hair
if your tampon
is the wrong size
lest you sneeze
and it shoots out of you
like a tiny
red
cotton cannon ball
of "there goes your Saturday afternoon
have fun cleaning this mess"

maybe
sleep with a towel under you
or buy dark-colored sheets
and a dark-colored mattress
perhaps dark-colored everything
or you might wake up
to a horror film
in your bed

sometimes your cramps
will have you searching
the house for
your father's gun
because a bullet
in your foot
has to be less painful
than this false labor
and more effective
than a tylenol

PMS may last
three weeks a month
we come from a long line
of mentally unstable women
prepare your partners
for this eventuality
make sure they know
to stock up on tea,
movies, chocolate
and self-defense classes

there is no timing to this
your uterus
is drunk
and has a nasty temper
she will weave
all over the damn month
puking
whenever she damn well
feels like it

also
sorry if you end up
not ID'ing as female
this will suck even more
for you
especially if you also want kids
(they're worth it
sometimes.)
welcome to dysphoria hell.

just remember, dear
don't rip your uterus out
with your sharpened harpy claws
it'll probably hurt a lot more
than those cramps
and will definitely bleed more
than you usually do.

such a mess.

happy thirteenth birthday
this is your life
for the next four decades.