Oestrogen Mythology

Beware, for she writes poetry, and ye Unwitting pilgrim, may become a king Anointed at the new moon, in the spring Within an oestrogen mythology Take care, for she writes poetry, and thee Good man, may move her blood and heart to sing Be crowned with oak leaves, bound within the ring Become her ovulation fantasy She fair may be, but subject to the pull Of hormones, gravity, and tidal flow She makes her heroes, though unconsciously From those who touch her when the moon is full She’ll cry and tear her hair out when you go And pen progesterone tragedy © Gail Foster 7th September 2016