.................................
Cherry Miss Pie
.................................

The way Leslie made it sound,
you wore guys like gumball machine rings.

The way she made it sound,
it had been your cousin first,
and, while you were still hanging out to dry,
his nine dirt-eating friends.

The way Leslie told it,
you had potions and spells
to bring those red X's
back to the pages of your calendar.

Leslie said
you'd been caught with a carrot,
that ruddy man of such thirst,
behind the girl's gym. And your sister,
she'd been there with knobby cuke
in hand.

When it first happened to you,
your chunky-girl legs spreading
on hay bales, on twisty Laura Ashley
sheets, on cellar floors, on McDonald bags
and oil rags
in someone's back seat, Leslie said
pop went the world.

The way Leslie told your story
on that summer day
as we gripped dappled horses
between our lily thighs,
she burned you right into the leather belt
of my mind, so that I've flayed myself
with your image
ever since. So that when someone
says whore, you stand up

somewhere within me,
your chunky-girl face serene
as you take a deep and satisfied
bow.

.................................
Jenniffer Lesh
.................................

 
Copyright © Jenniffer Lesh
March 1996

...a poem in this room by Karen Hussey...
My Good Name
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