Return to Top of Page
Menu
  • Close
  • About Us
  • Contributors
  • Donate
  • Opportunities
  • Staff
  • Submissions
  • 20 Years
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Search Website
Literary Mama
  • Current Issue
  • Past Issues
  • Departments
  • Blog
  • Newsletter
Photo by bharath g s on Unsplash

Poetry | September/October 2021

The Unpredictable Sex Life of the Tooth Fairy

By Minna Dubin

(Day 46 of shelter-in-place)

When out of his dark room 
strides our son, victorious 
 
as a cowboy, opening his mouth 
to reveal a fresh emptiness, thrusting 
 
his fist towards us, in his palm 
an offering, a glistening 
 
star, still red 
on one end from the tussle,
 
I know our plan to have 
sex has disintegrated 
into a trip to Target—
 
such is the unpredictable 
sex life of the Tooth Fairy.
 
Once we were like other Tooth Fairies—
sliding silver dollars under pillows. 
 
When our son developed 
a chocolate fixation we hid
 
netted clusters of gold-
covered chocolate coins 
 
beneath his head. These days 
he has eyes only for Pokémon cards. 
 
My partner and I don't say
Target will destroy our sex,
but when he arrives home 
 
two hours later, weighed down
by three bags of groceries, 
 
Pokémon cards and war-veteran eyes, 
we both know a full recovery 
is not in the cards tonight. 
 
By this time I am so deep 
into Netflix and my resignation, 
 
I barely care. Maybe 
this is the silver-crusted lining
of long-term love in quarantine—
 
sex comes and goes, a light 
switched on and off, a child
 
discovering their power 
over electricity, and we 
 
are able to observe our sex flitting away, 
like a meditator catching and releasing 
 
a thought, because we know 
our barren calendars will stay 
 
this way for the next 365 days or so, 
and parents are practiced at waiting 
 
out insolence, plus sex is lousy 
at hide-and-seek. Noisy and prideful, 
sex always gives itself away.

2 replies on “The Unpredictable Sex Life of the Tooth Fairy”

Amy Baskinsays:
September 17, 2021 at 10:09 am

You had me at the title. This rings true for those living with adult children in quarantine as well (minus the tooth fairy). A great pandemic spin, updating “While Making Love We Hear Footsteps.” Brava!

Reply
Julie Roycesays:
September 23, 2021 at 1:09 pm

It may be that there’s always something-predictable or unpredictable-that gets in the way of a sex life. Small children, adult, live-at-home children, exhaustion, age (growing older has its issues), pandemics, and the list goes on. Thanks for a poem that brought a smile to my face.

Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Share This Page

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Email
  • Copy Link

Minna Dubin

Learn More

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Don't miss out on Literary Mama news and updates

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Instagram
  • RSS

© 2023 Literary Mama | Search Site | About Us | Staff | Submissions | Privacy Policy