.................................
twelve, going on woman
.................................

she's twelve. slender, long.
blooming breasts. glinting hair
down there too.
steps out of the shower and wraps the
towel around her head
i say hey you are beautiful i don't
fig leaf her with disapproval.

you told me stop being so
goddamned mothering sickly sweet.
she is fuckable.

her father told her one more thing he hears
of her young suitor's kisses
she is locked in her room.

what do men know?

i found lust again.
when he kisses me when he tells me he
loves me i think oh lord this is how
she feels. she's twelve.

yesterday. two men. one gun.
asked her how old she was.
on a beach. in her lean one-piece.
they said girl we like you tell us your name.
wouldn't tell. they wanted to know. again.
i imagine she was feeling pretty. sexy.
scared. hard to sort out being desired
threat menace guilt.

and if you ever fuck her. fuck her tender.
luxuriate in her beauty. touch and marvel.
don't rule her don't menace.
don't tell her you knew me.

i hope she does not hurt. you.

.................................
Liz Haight and Marek Lugowski
.................................

 
Copyright © Liz Haight and Marek Lugowski
March 1996

...a poem in this room by Jan McLaughlin...
the Marek Katchina...
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