Fallout (Crank 3)

with promise. He lifts my wrists above

my head, pins them purposefully to the ground

with one strong hand, as if I might complain

about his other hand, voyaging over

my body, lingering in all the right places.

It already knows me. Such intimate

awareness deserves trust, and so I open

myself to it. And to Kyle. He takes complete

control. Instinct or experience? No matter.

My body surrenders. Reacts. Invites.

He is not gentle. But I am not afraid.

And as we rise and rise in symphony,

each note completely new to me, I think

I might never be frightened again.

AWASH

In love’s pastel afterglow,

we drive slowly back toward

town. Back toward Matt. Still

wondering what I’ll tell him, but

worrying less about his reaction.

As we turn down the dirt track

toward home, Kyle pulls over.

He gives me a long kiss, then

says, I’ll pick you up tomorrow,

okay? We’ll deal with Matt together.

He puts the truck in gear, and

as we near the trailer, I notice

Dad sitting outside, smoking.

When he sees who I’m riding

with, his body straightens.