Dawn Cunningham Hines

 

Pissing Off the Side of the Row Boat into the Salamonie Reservoir Night Fishing

After reading “Pissing Off the Back of the Boat into the Nivernais Canal” by William Matthews

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The night is muggy, my pussy sweats
like a cat thrown in the pool . . .
even a cool down thought aspires
bladder into action. 24
years old and, yes, I can still hold it

—after two children—
with squeezed thighs and vagina
milking as if a penis is inserted. I think of slipping
bare ass over the side of the boat as Johnny
turns his back to me, unzips,
teasing my need. I’m willing to throw sexism
off the boat. I swear and threaten
the kitty will make its appearance,
even if Johnny sees, even the blood that drips,
which might make the wrong fish come. Modesty isn’t an issue
when the other man likes men, I whisper.
I get this stare from my husband and put a lock
on the tiger now roaring. My imagination is undoing
my pants, sliding my pants across my thighs
as I scoot my ass over the edge. A purr escapes
and a fish leaps to taste. The sweat glitters on my thighs
from the bright stars, and pissing my jeans
doesn’t escape this pussy’s mind, nor does the fish
leaping into my cunt, caught, the title
“Woman Catches a Fish with her Bloody Vagina,”
splashing into my eyes.

 

On the shore 12 hours later, after no fish,
after the moon drowned,
I run, hearing, Wait till we get to the restaurant.
They’ve already pissed over the boat
more than I piss in a night, drinking Pepsi,
while I stayed parched. I squat behind
a large tree, hearing the morning fisherman
coming down the dusty path.