I Like Blow Pops But I Don’t Like the Gum
I said one night, as we sucked on the 25cent lollipops
you bought at the bodega. That was Monday and
we thought we’d be adventurous, you with green apple,
me with watermelon. We’ve been dieting, which was
your idea. I gained ten pounds by middle pregnancy
and you twenty-five. Oh no. Still, I like your beefy middle,
don’t mind that you sometimes eat pizza for breakfast
even though we’re not in college anymore. This morning,
I passed the bathroom and you sat naked on the toilet, fresh
from a shower, water droplets clinging to your chest. For
a brief second, I was disgusted. Wondered where did the
mystery go. But I thought back to Monday, when you ate
the gum from my sucker, when we walked and talked about
meaningless things, when I was happy for the first time in weeks,
and I decided not to care that you were shitting with the door open.
We are at the beach, on the sand, naked. There are no towels and we are not in France. A lifeguard patrol drives by on a four-wheeler, his long pubic hair braided and flapping in the wind. You turn to your elbow, dick swinging. “Is this what Adam and Eve felt like?” you ask. But there are no apples in this paradise and you are not my husband.
The Toilet Broke, Let’s Call The Plumber
I was sitting outside eating when a woman walked by
in yoga pants had her hair done up and no child not even
the body of a woman who’d once before had a child
and for a moment I thought: I want to fuck that.
I blinked, unsure where this sudden urge came from though
yes I experimented once maybe twice in college but I now
after two babies lost and two dogs at home and a husband
who every morning makes me breakfast feel content
usually in my cis hetero monogamous lifestyle.
Not today. It’s the first day of spring and hot
I’m hot and flustered mustered the ability to
text the husband sex? tonight? while I watched
the yoga pants woman walk to the end of the block.
Husband texts back maybe he says I have horrible
heartburn today also btw the toilet clogged again
Hillary Ferguson is a New York City-based poet and writer. She is currently an MFA candidate in poetry and fiction at The New School and a co-founder of the journal Politics and Poems. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Huffington Post, BuzzFeed, Lamprophonic, the Roanoke Review, On The Verge, and elsewhere. She can be found on twitter @Hillary_Ferg.