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Homework

Quick and neat as minor  
surgery, it didn’t happen  
 
like it does in the movies.  
A cold, New England winter,  
 
my teenage legs spread across  
the afternoons, as his penis  
 
fumbled like a key. I didn’t really  
love him.  Eager for practice, I wasn’t  
 
what you’d call a slow learner—  
we cracked the books, often.  
 
 
 
*Note: This poem also appeared online in May, 2011, in The Literary Burlesque (now defunct).
Written by pyrategurrll (Lauren Tivey)
Published | Edited 3rd Oct 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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