Lauren Schmidt

A Woman Queefs at the Gym While Stretching

Because you have headphones on, you can’t hear
but surely you can feel the air stuttering out from
your spandex pants. The sound thrusts its quick jabs,
a tiny punching bag sputtering as you stand up
from touching your toes. I watch for your eyes to scan
the room, wide and white with awareness. I wait for them
to spot the likes of me, doing my best not to fall out
of my Downward Dog and roll around howling on my mat.

But you go on climbing the ropes of the air,
then you sway like beach reeds in the breeze
because maybe

you’ve had that moment with your husband
or thirty years ago with your first love: that moment

when your body sighs the relief that comes
with comfort, that moment

you hear your body echo the shudder
he left, wet between your legs; that moment

when he hugs your face with its wide eyes
to his neck which kicks quietly with laughter.