The Mouthpiece

Fiona Helmsley

I was never classically pretty.

I was always

 Unique

Different

Striking

Adjectives neither reassuring nor coveted

By a girl of young age.

So I worked on my compensations

And to know me was to like me.

To know me was the fissure

From where consideration might lead.

The majority of my girlfriends were genetically blessed.

But with gifts can come voids.

This is why it is said

It is best not to get everything you want easily.

And while their faces did work

Their mouths sometimes wouldn’t move

And I became the mouthpiece

Assuming their battles

In trade as my own.

But on this day there were no battles.

On this day all was calm.

A good day for a swim at the waterhole

Where we all would meet.

He had a girlfriend.

Susan.

A fine specimen and

Bided his time there

With me till she arrived. 

A woman’s bathing suit

 Dangled in the branches of a tree.

An artifact of revelry from a day I hadn’t seen.

He freed it with a stick.

Flung it my direction.

And it landed in the dirt

Next to my feet.

Susan’s prude he said.

His stick moved the bathing suit in circles.

Then Why is she like that? You said she liked me.

She does I answered back

Like it was my responsibility.

Then he put down the stick

Wiped off the dirt transference

And said with a hearty laugh

I want you to suck my dick.

And when I last saw my No

 It was floating towards the tree tops

Dangling in the branches where the bathing suit had laid.

Then he said as if to raise me

One fine specimen

 You’re so much better at this than she is

When all I‘d done

Was not remove it with my teeth.

© Fiona Helmsley

Drag

Fiona Helmsley

He is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

He says he loves my legs

And my stomach.

I love his back.

When he turns to leave

There’s a fire in my belly.

Not butterflies

But hellbender salamanders.

It’s become a game to him—

Trying to catch me out of drag.

He doesn’t get there’s nothing to separate.

When he comes close

I make him wait extra long

For Take Two.

One hot day of 9–5 fucking

He hides my trade tools as I wash.

I tie my t-shirt in a daisy dukesque knot

Strut with a walk that showcases my long, long legs.

I have no choice but to face him

And he says he wants me to meet his mom.

I can see now where this is going.

It’s a slippery slope I can’t oblige.

In the pit of my stomach

A salamander turns.

Its claws like a knife—

My beautiful boy has been plotting all along

How to turn a hooker into a housewife.

©Fiona Helmsley

Fiona Helmsley is a thirty- something momshell, navel-gazer and recovering fun slut. Her first book, There Are A Million Stories In The Naked City When You’re A Girl Who Gets Naked In The Naked City was released in August of 2010. A writer of creative non- fiction and poetry, her work can be found scattered about the print and online worlds.