It's a Boy!
“Stop touching me or start
Touching me somewhere else.”
I swear. I mean. Everything
Gets into bed and then—
Biology begins and sex ends.
Every bed gets somebody
Inside. Every inside gets
Tired of being inside.
Everything wants to come
Out and then it isn’t what
It was and something
Is missing a piece
Of someone and someone
Is missing being. Alone.
They call it a baby
But it isn’t yet an anything.
It’s only a piece of the me.
It’s inside and awful quiet.
Shhh. Don’t wake the me.
Don’t bother me— with you.
There will be yous forever
Now. There will be always
Another person in the world.
Sex when you’re pregnant
Is like sex when you aren’t
Pregnant, but with extra people.
Too many. Which is why the
Alone and the quiet and the OH
And the OHH. “Oh, Alone!”
I need a room— a small one,
Quiet, just me for as long
As I can be.
There’s a dick inside me right now.
This very minute.
It’s been there for weeks.
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Author's Note
Poem about being pregnant with a baby boy.
Other stories by Laurel Snyder
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Everyone says that TOTALLY freaks them out!
I love "every inside gets tired of being inside".
What a great poem. The end is fairly alarming.
The end??? I'm alarmed all the way through! But there's also something really sweet about this poem & I can't stop reading it. Thanks for posting, Laurel!
I love everything about it. So funny and true.
We share some of the same dick imagery! This is a wonderful twisty piece that turns on itself. (I took the ending to mean that she's carrying a boy? Did I Pollyanna this?)
Oh, duh. The title. Never mind.
LOL! I've actually been asked that before.
Love this! And loved, loved the end.
I love this piece. The ending is sublime.
Ha! Laurel, this is really great. You're the best.
Since when is two dicks too many?
(Love it.)
Laurel:
I just fucked my pregnant girlfriend tonight and this is exactly what must have been going on in her head.
I just hope that I don't think of this poem when we fuck tomorrow.
But, in truth, I am really feeling this poem. We're having a boy and its weird waiting for something to happen (a child being born) while its happening. I think that's kind of what this poem is all about. How two people deal with all that and try to feel something other than some kind of weird mixture of anticipation, love, boredom, joy, and fear of having a child.
I like the loneliness of this...these fractures of "you" and "me"...how the poem strives to define how what you thought this child was really wasn't. And how, through it all, it changed how you defined yourself...the person you were with...what that "us" of a relationship, a family, is.
In other words, this really fucked me up. Thanks a lot.
For real though, I loved it...broke my heart...
Oh, man... thanks for saying all of this.
And to you too, Toine. And everyone else.
Fictionaut is pretty dang cool. Strange sharing poems this way, but awesome.
I really really like this especially the last stanza.
Amusing piece (ah, no pun intended).
I like this, especially the non-glossy take on being with child and all. The one bit I stumble on is the end... it strikes me as too harsh, not-quite-but-almost sexualizing the unborn child.
great poem!
Love the poem! I just had a little boy myself and I know the feeling. I did read that sex at the end of a pregnancy can induce labor - so I did it for the "Greater good" towards the end :)