Letter to my Vagina
It’s true that I have started avoiding you.
What did you expect?
We used to be good friends but lately you are driving
me crazy.
You are difficult, unreasonable.
You are noisy and distracting.
You keep reminding me of things I can’t have anymore.
Can’t you see that there is nothing I can do for you
right now?
I am lonely too.
Why don’t you just shut up about it.
I think we need to give each other some space
see other people for awhile
Okay?
Anchovy
Oh anchovy
you are the very bacon of fish!
I crunch your crystal filament bones
and suck your extravagant salt
with the gusto I reserve for life’s
deepest joys.
Oh wondrous catfood-smelling strip
of rosy needled flesh
you are simply great with beer and olives.
You make my breath a Liverpool fish market.
Eye-watering link to my wandering ancestors
I can take you in a backpack anywhere
your shelf life venerable, for what microbe
dares assail your brine?
Noble minnow
flashing through shallow seas
in silverfire fortresses
you are the legendary “little fish”
of the foodchain.
Select prey of sea lion, eel
and premenstrual woman
we share a king of tide
you sleep in narrow tins
waiting for the moon’s dark pull
that draws me barefoot
filled with a midnight lust
just short of madness.
————
Nancy A. Henry’s poems have been published in Rattle, Atlanta Review, Southern Humanities Review, and featured on NPR’s “The Writers’ Almanac.”