IF THE BOYS SPEAK
I was seven…seven…just seven A seed…not yet called sapling. She,a cousintwice ripenedbreasts like twin orangesstraining thin cloth,hips like two drumsbeating beneath her wrapper. She said:“Let me show youhow fire sleepsin a woman’s belly.” I was a lambtethered to her whisper.I was a drumshe beatbehind shut doors.She said the bloodtrapped,mapping my buttocks,pulsed her budawake,called the wet godfrombetween her thighs. I…
