Wednesday, August 25, 2010

She thinks

I wrote this poem about three years ago. At that point, I was embrassed to talk about how painful intercourse was for me with everyone but a couple friends. Luckily, after the event described in the last stanza, I got a new doctor. With her help, we were able to concieve without much pain (but also without much romance). Since Natalie's birth, I have no pain at all. Happy ending :)

She thinks
if I make a perfect dinner
if I light the flowery candles
if I wear the satin slip
Then maybe it will matter enough anyway
Because it won’t be empty of love,
But thoughts still creep back.

She tells the doctor,
I would like to enjoy my honeymoon.
The doctor says keep trying.

But they have tried.

He didn’t propose until they both agreed she could no longer be called a virgin,
but it took a year.
She lay still,
she sweat in pain, not lust,
she blinked away her tears
she attempted to turn her cries, into sexy moans,
But still, her tears eventually conquered his ability.

Two nights before he proposed,
she almost asked him to stop
she felt like an object
and couldn't hid afterward
That same night the condom broke,
And that made sense to her, because that was what it felt like.

She sees a different doctor
He says its all in her mind
Try some yoga
Drink some wine
It happens to many women, but there is no physical reason
So she buys a book on yoga, but never reads it
believes he is sexist and too quick to judge,
Yet she wonders if it is only because she is afraid not to think so.

They had tried wine and tried yoga, but there was no difference.
They try different ways, different angles,
different times, different places.

She doesn’t understand how
Romance novels and movie sences
Her husband’s long kisses, strong arms, and
Rubbing and wave like motions
Can make her lust, and pant, and moan,
How daydreaming of the act causes unparalleled longing,
While in reality
Her body tenses
Eventually submitting to numbness

So she avoids it.
Reasons that
she's too tired
there isn't enough time
her period might be starting
it hasn’t been that long

Yet she worries
When will my husband tire of this and deem me a cold wife?
Will he seek out what he needs from some one else?
What about my babies?
How can they be born, when the instruments at the doctor’s office
Still sting hours later?

She goes to an annual visit, and says nothing
As the doctor inspects, she winces
The doctor says, "Oh, does that hurt?"
Isn't this her doctor?
Doesn't she remember?
How can she trust the judgment of someone who doesn’t know her biggest concern?
Is she not even worth the value of a note on her chart?
She feels so insignificant and objectified she doesn’t respond.

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