Awaiting Rain

by Tamara Madison


When I was young
I never knew
when my period
would come.
I waited
for those rust-colored
first drops the way
the desert
awaited rain.
There were many
false alarms —
a clear, tacky sloughing
but no more —
like clouds that clotted
above the mountains
but never made it
into the valley
of dry sand
with its chafing grains,
and dry me trying
to become and remain
a woman.


* * * * *

Tamara Madison is the author of the chapbook The Belly Remembers, and two full-length volumes of poetry, Wild Domestic and Moraine, all published by Pearl Editions. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, The Worcester Review, A Year of Being Here, Nerve Cowboy, the Writer’s Almanac and many other publications. A swimmer, dog lover and native of the southern California desert, she is thrilled to have recently retired from teaching English and French in a Los Angeles high school, and more thrilled still to be awaiting a second grandchild into the world.