Issue |
 |
Sept |
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a poem by Melissa Wray (1 of 2)
Modesty
There has to be
a sitter
in my hospital room
at all times.
I have to
piss
with the bathroom door
open.
Fuck it.
I want them to see me
draining diarrhea
or changing my tampon.
They've seen me
blacked out
incoherent
violently vomiting acrid green-black bile
retching on nothing left
cold sweating
numb tingling blind
after teeth-clenching phobic IV changes
and blood-letting needle stings.
I want to leave
the back of my gown
half-open
when it's a boy
sitting there.
I want to receive
a visitor
and tongue and grope
until we are wildly fucking in my adjustable bed
sending pleasure moans ringing through the sterile germ halls
instead of pain.
We are all uncomfortable.
a sitter
in my hospital room
at all times.
I have to
piss
with the bathroom door
open.
Fuck it.
I want them to see me
draining diarrhea
or changing my tampon.
They've seen me
blacked out
incoherent
violently vomiting acrid green-black bile
retching on nothing left
cold sweating
numb tingling blind
after teeth-clenching phobic IV changes
and blood-letting needle stings.
I want to leave
the back of my gown
half-open
when it's a boy
sitting there.
I want to receive
a visitor
and tongue and grope
until we are wildly fucking in my adjustable bed
sending pleasure moans ringing through the sterile germ halls
instead of pain.