first man in my bed
unknown
first kiss on my cheek
backyard
first family, now splintered,
embedded.
In the summers
we all ran wild and tanned
with the Kelly boys
through the reddened and dried pine needles
past tire swings rotted
to rubber on a line.
they had a fort.
not too far from the house.
almost like a playground before
wood chips and plastic
replaced sand and metal slides.
their mother had packed her old
barbies in a suitcase and she
unsnapped the latches
every time my brothers and I
turned up to play. I never came
close to loving
barbies but those woods and games
and boys drove me crazy. Shifting
out side i saw them
rushing, whooping, hollering, shooting off
thier fingers like so many little boys
pretending
star wars, transformers, gi joe
i stared
at barbie
at the window
at barbie
until Sister Kelly smiled
with a shush of a sigh
(she never had any girls)
and then the trees would be my forest
and the boys would have thier Princess Leia
and Sister Kelly would shutter up
her suitcase and mind
us from the back porch.
Stu Kelly.
I remember your blond hair
like I remember the first time I drank liquor.
And your older brother, his face fades
but it was his kiss
that made me spit and shout
COOTIES
secretly pleased and pinked
and knowing
i wanted boys.
in droves
wild at me feet
trembling and teeming with the need
to have me
like i want him still.
and now i have one
a manboy
in my bed
in my bathroom
on my couch
buried in the boredom of television
and my bad cooking
but wrapped around me
most nights
so
it’s okay
that he doesn’t shake all the time
just like it’s okay that i don’t know the names
of that first
man in my bed
that first dick in my mouth
that first twat underneath my tongue
all the firsts
(never satisfied by a forever that could be
a just for now)
complacent
to be memory
to be so unforgotten and yet still so
unnamed.
08/04/2003
copyright eak2004