Okay, were good. Now I’m prepared for next month at least. That shit is scary. The app on my phone just reminded me. It’s that time of the month. We're three days from the well and Kirara can't fly since our last attack from Naraku hurt her pretty badly. Just act natural. How does she use this brand? Why the hell do these things have to be in the same aisle? Why do I even care if they know? Ode to the Tampon. you who were compressed into a dense calyx. But wait. Everyone is watching me. ( Log Out /  They were definitely invented by a man. I just had them where are they. Ode to a Tampon. Exchange them. I’m so buying ice cream. Grab your bag. Now go before the ladies say something awkward or even just look at you. Oh my god everyone knows that I have my period and I have toilet paper stuck up my whoha! Just walk away. Tampons are like Diet Coke in that way. Okay, I’ll go get ice cream and then I’ll come back for the tampons. The title of this particular poem is humorous in its incongruous pairing of the ode, with its rather stuffy constellation of associations, and the tampon, with its vulgarity. I just can’t right now. Oh no that was awkward why would you smile these are not happy times. Got the ice cream. I’d ask my roommate for help but she’s gone, as usual. Does that even work? Oh crap, the store is a zoo. I should probably just go to the store now but it’s past six and I don’t need them yet. It’s not like he is going to say anything. I’ll just take one of hers and she’ll never know. I’ll just stand in this one. No one even noticed. It was filed under Uncategorized and was tagged with Depends, Feminism, Funny, ice cream, period, tampon. Oh crap! I’m out. It’ll be fine. I’m going for the ice cream. Oh god where are they? But if I buy ice cream and tampons the whole world will for sure know I’m on my period. "I brought everything else but those," she thought darkly as the thick scent of blood began to waft through the air. I see the aisle. This is what I get for using one that isn’t mine. I think. I do not want to go to the store. I’m two days away according to it and I check my supplies. My turn is next and then I can get out of here. Oh crap! Now just don’t waddle too much or you’ll give the awkward padding in your pants away. Switch. Sharon Olds is author to 12 collections of poetry and holds numerous honors including a National Endowment for the Arts grant and a Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship. She would obviously let me borrow one if she were here. Her most recent collection, Stag’s Leap, was the recipient of the 2013 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the T. S. Eliot Prize. What the hell smells like flowers? What if it gets on my pants and then the WHOLE WORLD will know I get periods? I do not want my crotch to smell like flowers.