It was clinical, really. Not like I'd imagined. He said he'd done it many times before and I trusted him and so there were preparations and the gathering of towels. His calm voice told me what to do.
Move your legs . . . good.
Relax.
Breathe.
Tilt a little.
There, you ok?
Don't be afraid, you're doing great.
This might a hurt a little, don't worry.
And the black-hair waterfall over forehead and neck and the glow-in-the-dark green eyes and the twinge and the bruised blood and the towels buried in the trash and the feeling blindly for panties in the dark and the smoothing of hair and finally the wink and the snatching of sunglasses and the slamming of the car door.
Go home and get some sleep. You look like shit.
I didn't do it again for a long time after.
It felt like somebody just hit me in the head with a sledge hammer. I can't even imagine how it must have hurt you.
ReplyDeleteThe painful experience follwed by the stabbing words.
I want to give you a hug.
This reminds me of a friend's first time. It was one of the first things she confided to me. Awful. I feel so lucky that my first time was full of love.
ReplyDeleteThe pacing of the piece mirrors the situation perfectly. Clinical at first. Then slam-bang finish...perfect tone...
ReplyDeleteNow as far as the situation. This should be a must read for not just young women, but men. This is one hell of an experience to share, and it takes a brave woman to share it.
I'm honored to read it. RS
Wow. WOW. You have made something amazing out of something terrible. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteWow! I love the way you expressed this. In my opinion, it's perfect writing. I'm sorry for your experience though.
ReplyDeletePowerful.
ReplyDeleteSometimes we find the most strength in pain.
Again you manage to commune your thoughts in a pulsating , real , obvious , energy.
ReplyDeleteOn a side note. September is a cruel month according to Marianne faithful... But according to T.S. Eliot , April is the cruelest month. ;)
Cheers Angie.
Costis
I think the clinical experience extends far beyond first times. Hidden behind a rush of verse and pretty words "later" experiences are often more of the same, but none of us like to think so.
ReplyDeleteWow! You've wrenched something so powerful from such a painful experience. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteOh wowzers. That's intense. A bit traumatizing... but in a good way (right?).
ReplyDeleteWow, i don't know what to say. Wow. Really and truly powerful stuff.
ReplyDeleteWhy does everyone has to believe that it can never be a fiction?!
ReplyDeleteoh my goodness angie - how horrible - and you managed to capture all the pain in the most amazing way
ReplyDeletePoets scare me, but in a good way. Like being swarmed by butterflies.
ReplyDeleteAnd, anonymous has a valid point.
Exemplary piece, stark voice to this - it fits.
ReplyDeleteHats off to your strength to back to dig the memories and make them wear such beautiful words for other to read and praise.
ReplyDeleteI have been there myself- highly animated and not knowing what was happening- so I know!
I too write about my own life experiences both in prose n poetry- separately..
Sending you warm Hugs n loads of wishes
xoxoxox
stark reality that lays hidden in many of hearts
ReplyDeleteWhat a captivating and amazingly written piece....you have a raw and wonderful talent Angie....look forward to reading more and more of your words. :-)
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ReplyDeleteOutstanding poem! It reminds me of Kay Ryan's amazing poem called...
ReplyDeleteGreen Behind the Ears
I was still slightly
fuzzy in shady spots
and the tenderest lime.
It was lovely, as I
look back, but not
at the time. For it is
hard to be green and
take your turn as flesh.
So much freshness
to unlearn