"Your daughter's started her period!"
"What should I do?"
"Nothing, you're the dad.
Dads aren't supposed to know."

10 + 1/2 years is too soon.
She'll figure it all out.
Get it on with tampons, maxi pads, and Advil.
Doesn't seem fair. Showing up so early
when she still wants to be a boy.
Runs faster than any boy.

Of course I don't know about it.
Not invited into the Women Only Blood Club.
Staying clueless — the elegantly simpler gender.

My mind works on an impromptu ole'dad-soft-shoe
      circle of women, full moon,
      the ebb and the flow,
      women's secrets, sisterhood,
      and the Goddess Girl's Club,
but it's not working. Nothing sacred about any of this for me.

When I get home I hug her
"let's go for a coke and a hamburger"
      . . . as if nothing's happened.
Just your same old dad. The old safe shoe.
Feeling sad for she who must now bleed in secret, alone.