Wounds, by Amy Louise Wyatt

Some people cannot speak about their wounds
for very thought of blood will turn them red.

They like fresh wrapped bandage; clean bleached
sheets; starched towels; crisp new handkerchief.

They know why we’re first washed clean:
untraced womb; maternal plasma; amniotic sap.

Women-made women: women full of wombs
expel whatever they have chosen to expel.

Yet, some can’t speak about their wounds.
Ones in shock of fresh-flecked cloth, stoop, bow

and call out not again.  Women, who the very
thought of blood will turn them deathly grey.


Amy Louise Wyatt is a lecturer, poet and artist from Bangor, N.I.  She is the editor of The Bangor Literary Journal.  Amy has been published in The Blue NibCAP Anthology, Lagan Online andFourXFour.  She was a finalist in the 2016 National Funeral Services Poetry Competition and the 2017 Aspects Festival Poetry Slam and shortlisted for The Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing 2018. Amy is a member of Women Aloud NI.  She is based at The Blackberry Path Studios and is working towards her first poetry collection. 

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