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It was the summer
high school boys bloomed
with octopus hands,
inescapable tongues,
and atomic erections.

We compared contraceptive folklore
at slumber parties,
girls with awakening hormones
in shortie pajamas.
I learned how to smoke
filterless Pall Malls,
rat my stiff hair,
and kill militant semen.

Virginity seized me
in one vengeful claw,
whispered horror stories
of unwanted pregnancy
into my ear
using nun's voices.

I got tired of wrestling fingers
out of my bra and went on a
private hunger strike
against sexual freedom,
punished appetite with hours of leg lifts
and solo runs around my dad's orchard.

Pinned baggy skirts as they fell
from my waist to the
tails of my empty-tent blouses.
Watched myself shrink
back to the safety
of flat-chested childhood.