f l u s h
you're so
pretty please
let me see what it's like
cheeks pulled
themselves into splotches of rudd
a pornographic pansy revealed
no one ever admits being
secretly glad
that one
was taken
advantage
of
one always lies
about the precarious state
of innocence
adolescence is
less than
what we think
there are hairs
and sitting
alone pressing–
–the converse?
an excretion of frames and scrawl
burnished with an antiphon of "two"
it is the first blush of youth
it is you pressed against me with hard hopes
it is down the toilet
this is the way the cliché begins
this is too late to say—nothing
this is teetering on a mossy limb
wipe that look off your face
wipe your nose wipe
your ass
dante woo, 1997
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