Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, September 12, 2010

My Blood

by Jenny Picciotto

My blood runs
thick and red
between my legs.

teeth bared,
eyes flashing.

Red fear,
Red anger
Red Danger.

I place my red
into your hands.

My heart, exposed,

My blood flows,
recirculating in my
No Where
for the anger
to go.

An image.
A woman:
eyes glazed
in the
pose of the harlot.

Why do you love
this way. Not myself.
The image of self effacement.

What is the harm
of acting out
your fantasy?
Your precious fantasy.
is the way

Stripped of self awareness
out of touch with my own
A puppet of your desire.

My heart cries out
against the invisible
you place around me.

My sexuality

The mindlessness of a
without self determination.
Her moods
dictated by the man.

Why is this an attractive image to you?
Do you so enjoy me
of my strength,
of my sense of self.

Sex with my body
is not
making love.
For there is no
of the individual
to love.

Fucking my body
is an unconscious act
animal passion. But
am not there
with you.

My blood flows red,
into my eyes,
down my thighs.
this body,
by the rhythms of nature.
this body,
for the development of my children.
this body,
for your pleasure.


You leave me to bleed-
the anger of my heart
in the ecstacy
of your orgasm.


  1. Part of this poem is fierce and strong, and part of it was troubling to me. I kept wondering what the source of the blood was that runs down her thighs. A miscarriage? Some wound or injury? Too-rough pounding by a man who is unaware he's hurting her? I probably shouldn't comment on poetry because I am such a literalist.

  2. I'm with Gita on this. The parts about sex not being love because of the lack of individual representation were super, but all that blood had me concerned, but then I, too, am not a great judge of poetry. The brief and pithy can bowl me over, but I guess literalism is also my problem. The more I have to question the validity of my own interpretation, the further I feel I must have wandered from the poet's intent. Still, I'd like to read more of your work.

  3. Ah, a strong comment on the way men and society relate to women--sexually, as objects. All you have to do is open a fashion magazine and look at the puppet-like, disjointed, exaggerated poses and makeup, the costumes, and it's all straight out of the Story of O - where a woman is only for sex and must be 'ready' at all times, her only goal. But, this is one side of the picture. There are other relationships possible, but hard-won. I see the blood as the female self, the female contents that are constantly being shed in the process of getting and keeping a man, bearing children, keeping a home together - a willingly given, but tremendously enervating, loss of vital energies. And if women let down, refuse, don't play the part, don't give in, don't 'keep sweet,' the men leave (either literally or figuratively)and then the women have 'themselves,' but society doesn't think much of them. It's an old, old truth. And, I guess it boils down to the essential differences between the needs of men and women. Never the twain . . . . Good work, Jenny.

  4. Jenny, (I just lost the whole reply... so forgive this if it's sloppy!)
    I'm in agreement with both Gita and MDJB, as far as 'all that blood'... but differ from them, in that they claim a literalistic outlook - whereas, i am the poet who is governed by emotions and empathic tendencies.

    I see the blood, simply as an outpouring of the emotions and self-hate, rage and self-doubt. This subject is something that I can relate too, all too well. I have felt this way. "invisible chains you place around me... mindlessness of a possessed girl without self determination... Do you so enjoy me stripped of my strength,
    stripped of my sense of self." - I couldn't have said this any better, or as succinctly.

    If you're asking, if I, the reader, 'gets' this... I do. You've accomplished this very well! thanks for sharing this, Denise Douros

  5. wow! the visual is grim and the blood is disturbing to me. but i like your use of the color red throughout. it gives it that repetition that makes poetry what it is.

  6. Jenny -
    I loved the poem the first time I heard it, and now even more. Pithy, passionate, vulnerable, truest of true to-self statements, concepts we don't dare verbalize or even think through completely - you have expressed so very well.
    I don't yet know what the soul-felt words are to compliment you, but I DO know you need to publish more of your poems!! The world is waiting to experience your intelligent word paintings and will smile when awakened to your incredible talent.
    Warmest Aloha -

  7. Strong, visceral, and disturbing; well-done

  8. Jenny, I think you have shown what a strong writer you are with this poem. Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I have been out of the country.