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Andrea Bigas-Rivera Poem
FRUITS OF OUR SEX
The sexualization of men and women lurks on every street corner
From the eggplants at the grocery store
To the cucumbers laid out at the spa
Can’t a woman enjoy a ripe banana?
Or bite into a watermelon while its juices
drip down my chin, slipping into my bra
What is it about food that’s so sexual?
Or is the pleasure hidden in the hunger that drives it all?
A craving, a desire we all have—built in, hardwired
A balanced diet turns aphrodisiac, quietly conspiring
Fueling our passions
as they seep in, interrupting vision with cloaked actions
What if I don’t eat pineapple?
Or my cheeks puff up when I eat peach,
What’s so wrong with small cherries?
Do they taste any less sweet?
What about what I want—
Can I not have sex with socks on
just to keep from worrying about cold feet?
The fruits of our sex are something for the eyes to see
Yet labeled in bold: Don’t bite into me
Is that what makes you want us more?
The warning, the restraint, the closed door?
Indulge in your desires—still your thirst returns unsure
No sweetness stays long enough to cure
So tell me—
is it the fruit,
or the mind
that makes hunger feel impure?
Copyright © Andrea Bigas-Rivera | Year Posted 2026
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