to pull down his nautica boxers the ones His mother bought for Him
because He was only 13 and didn’t work had no money
and I still liked Him because His skin was always salty and His tongue
felt like peaches in my mouth I sipped
Him into me all morning long before His parents walked in and I fell
off the bed they pretended not to see came back ten minutes later to invite us to church
as if we had a choice.
Sitting behind rows of sinners I smile
and wonder if I stained His pants and if He liked that.
His neck smells like ck be and so does my chest.
I kneel and five others line up beside me I came first.
father pretends not to see
the brown on my skin
the youth around my eyes
the raised hairs on my arms
I get skipped five times.
I snicker and father’s bone-hard stare and italian accent condemn me
before the congregation I smile
with shame now he breaks the body of christ in the center of my palm
and I suck until it dissolves between my teeth.