I wouldn’t refer to my first time as fire.
But after reading the diary of 13-year-old me
(got laid, I recorded for posterity),
father invited pastor to our living room to agree
over coffee that I am sexually dysfunctional.
Just before I turned 14, mother waved in my face
the contraceptive box kid sis found
under fabric scraps on my closet shelf.
One’s missing! mother seethed through her teeth.
Why should I believe it wasn’t used for fornication?
You’ve already proven you are used up—and broken.
It is a child’s duty to practice self-control.
So I apologized for my preventative measures,
and some weeks after, for pregnancy-testing positive.
But even twenty-five years after that,
I still refuse to repent for my making my firstborn.
Photo Credit: www.carloscherer.eu via Compfight cc
Gritty, gutsy from the heart writing Catherine.
I love her poetry