I touch behind His ears;
the wind howls, four thousand dragon flies take flight
he comes in his jeans
– moonlight staining the night –
and apologizes.
I forgive him and we laugh at the perversion,
how freaky can we get
I creep through God’s window and play him a mixtape
formaldehyde fills my lungs as we sing along to Extreme
that night, I take his virginity and I am certain I will never be forgotten
this soiled linen will preserve me here,
it will remember weakness and girlhood as He makes it so.
he comes in 19 seconds
– summertime and a blizzard, burlesque and jam sandwiches all at once.
I kiss Him before he can qualify the end of our lovemaking with an apology.
womanhood’s looming grief will pass me by
I’ll be a girl, not a virgin like the others but pure anyhow
someone who loved him like I could not provide.
If he decided to stay with me he’d go hungry
I’d bear witness but never children,
build a home I cannot heat.
what has a girl got besides her heart? what else could dress a naked altar?
Pat Lerin is a writer who enjoys the bus.
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