Close

Choice

Because there was no word for no
or even not now    because
consent wasn’t invented yet—
I didn’t even want to start
like most mornings wanted to get to class.

Hard enough
to get the damn diaphragm in and out
easy for him    no maneuvering a saucer
up his dick    passion questioned   not wanting
to fill the applicator   push more
acidic killer cream    slippery
clumping wet in my underpants all day.

Because of playing tag in DDT clouds
I feared birth control pills more
didn’t make sense why
would the rubber dome’s seal leak
if the directions said why
I might have listened
If spermicide killed at night,
why not continue to kill in the morning?
why put more gel up there? besides
I thought I was safe    bloody    counting
back by weeks   egg    sloughed off   released.

Because I couldn’t even babysit
without the hungover    pot hazy
unfinished homework   slit wrist feeling
because I loved him   loved us   loved.

Lisa Wujnovich is the author of the chapbooks Fieldwork (Finishing Line Press) and This Place Called Us (Stockport Flats Press). Her poems are anthologized in Ghost Fishing, Seeing Things, and NOW Hobart Festival of Women Writers, among others. Her poems are recently published in Banyan River Review, MERVOX, Snapdragon, and FEDCO. She holds an MFA from Drew University and lives in Hancock, NY.