How you peered into the weave of your pants,
sitting on the metal C of the school toilet,
spreading the gusset, searching
for bright red dots, splodges, Rorschach faces,
unequivocal as poppies.
How, when it came, it came
brown as silt, thick
and viscous, a smear
like a mark of mud on your forehead.
How you swooned
from the clanging cubicle,
your secret pressed between your legs,
tossed your hair as you overtook
scrums of oblivious boys.