Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by Emily Joy Oomen

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High School Crush 

       This crush is pink lemonade      You’re a jar of maraschino cherries
       burst in my fist               a cloud in the sky                full of as many
       unfulfilling promises as a homemade ice cream maker
       Each glance:                 eyes      lips     face         makes me feel like
       a room with all the lights on                 I confess to my friend about
       you over overpriced tacos and $4 fancy-bottled Coca-Cola
               She gives me kind advice I will never follow        I borrow my
       mother’s red lipstick because I think you will notice me more
       when I wear it         I paint it on my lips becoming a cherry
       bomb
           My way of flirting is asking you what the homework is for
       today
           My heart is full of the Fourth of July when I write my phone
       number on a torn piece of paper
                                                    When I give it to you three weeks later,
       tell me love isn’t just waiting.

 
 

Self-Portrait Using a Negative Pregnancy Test as a Microphone 

I sing at the top of my lungs the national anthem of vaginal joy
My voice a burst of neon
What’s more punk than belting into a microphone you peed on?
My uterus hits Mariah Carey high notes
And I dance like the Fourth of July exploded
Limbs candy coming out of a piñata
When the concert is over
I get a standing ovation from tampons

 

 

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Author photo by Jody Early

Emily Joy Oomen is a writer from the Pacific Northwest. Her work has been featured in BBC, The Wall Street Journal, the Athens International Video Poetry Festival, and other publications. She has a B.A. in English from the University of Washington. You can find her on Instagram @poetic_espresso More from this author →