Menarche Russell Rowland Romeoâ€™s future flame, text-messaging on the toilet, found the second period of her fledgling menarche had begun. I passed a roll of paper towels through, then sped to the drug store. Now the child is back with Mom, while in my wastebasket slashes of her blood dry red to brown on a wedge of towel. It will cease to be with our Juliet after the manner of women. We may not be here to help mourn her climacteric. Between milestones of womanhood, she will count off days to foil her own fertility and reassure herself that love sans vows has not conceived a bastard. Lover can flee and leave beloved bereft, or passion wither with egg and sperm. To messy extremities desire will drive the young, till all Verona is discomfited. Our melodramatic heroine throws a fit: better to be dead, and get it over with!
Professional literary journal produced at Asnuntuck Community College