by LeeAnn Pickrell

It happened after the state fair.
In my own bedroom. Parents
out of town and we
had done everything else. Our
fumbling innocence.

One thrust. In
halfway, the condom broke,
his voice rose, swept
by a current we never
knew existed.

7-Up, shaken-up,
for accidents
his mother had told him.

Legs spread on green carpet,
underneath my father's sink
where he shaved, brushed his teeth,
I awaited the bottle.

Shaken-up 7-Up,
spurting sticky
sugar. Not
what I had expected
to enter me.

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