Ode to Nexplanon by Madeline Grove

 

⅛ inch-wide 4-centimeter-long plastic stick

stuck in my left tricep,

like a worm, a parasite under my skin.

Only, I’m the parasite, sucking out your hormones 

for three or five years

in a vigorous attempt to avoid 

dropping out of school and working at Chipotle, 

a child waiting at home.

It’s me, my partner, and you in my bed.

That third being whose magical powers

lower the drawbridge 

onto the raging moat of anxiety

as he enters my castle. 

What would I be without you? 

Oh mighty Nexplanon.

I am the castle whose walls 

withstand torrential monthly weather. 

The rain trickles down my freckled bricks.

My wooden frames expand, spilling over my waistband 

as I submit to the cursed cravings. 

The Persistently Miserable Shitty winds 

filter their way through the cracks in my stone, 

amplified by the fluctuating pressures 

of my swinging mood. 

I caress you in the shower. 

I stare at your invisible 

worm-like body in the bathroom mirror. 

My doctor told me you once 

traveled to a blood vessel 

in someone’s lung.

 

 

Authors Note

My relationship with birth control is highly dependent on the political community within the place I live. Birth control is both a tool for female empowerment and a privilege that is afforded to some depending on place. The power of place both within society and geographically influences the range of rights women have. Birth control also influences how women react within their environment with the many symptoms we are affected by and cannot escape.

About the Contributor

Madeline Grove (She/Her) was born 54 minutes after her twin in California in 2002 and grew up in San Jose del Cabo, Mexico. Currently, Maddi is working toward a combined major in Creative Writing and English at UBC Okanagan. She looks forward to having more work published in the future.

Image from Unsplash by Михаил Секацкий.