For Whatever Reason

by Vicki Iorio


Blubbery pink wet lips, fat fingers (I’m betting they sweat in his baby blue

latex gloves), orange-haired Doc—reminds me of the clown-

fish in my dentist’s office. Some say looking at fish is calming, I don’t think so,
 
nothing good comes from something fishy—is going to scrape out the little fish floating in me.

But first, he adds an ounce of guilt to the anesthesia. I’m not buying it. Now that the get-out-of-jail-

free-card window is closing as fast as a trigger on a gun, some say the only good reasons

are incest and rape. I think any reason is reason enough.  My fault.   His fault.     College.    Alcohol.

Drugs.     Who knows?         Who cares?        Please.     I don’t remember what he looked like or his name.

Am I supposed to spend my life being a mother to his load?  

My son, I just know it would have been a boy, would be a man by now.

My sun, my darkness, my futureless future. And ladies, it was no big deal. Afterwards,

I craved a MacDonald’s fish fillet. With a bulky surfboard of a sanitary napkin

between my legs, a cold vanilla milkshake stanched my thirst.

* * * * *

Vicki Iorio is the author of the poetry collections Poems from the Dirty Couch (Local Gems Press), Not Sorry (Alien Buddha Press), and the chapbooks Send Me a Letter (dancinggirlpress) and Something Fishy (Finishing Line Press). Her poetry has appeared in numerous print and on-line journals including The Painted Bride Quarterly, Rattle, poets respond online, The Fem Lit Magazine, and The American Journal of Poetry. Vicki is currently living in Florida, but her heart is in New York.