sunset and wrenching gut muscles tell me
it is time. final exam. the beginning.
i thought it would be quick or small or even kind. more than one had had it so, so why not me?
none of the above.
afterwards, the mistress says enough,
she’s had enough for tonight —
you can have her again tomorrow if you want
half the cost since she won’t be fresh —
afterwards, the girls cluster ’round
offering warm wet cloth and hard arms;
been there, done that, not so bad, was it,
little country sister? and the rest of the night off!
relax. the first one is always the worst, they lie.
i cannot stop shaking.
February 12, 1997