How We First Made Love

The first boy

That ever placed his hands on my body,

held my mind down, so carefully 

Like a skin carpet beaten too finely

You can't push a needle through

I was nine

He had the eyes for aesthetics

Searched everywhere

But particularly found in the timid-lit room

Runned by my lower naked half

Lying beneath my malevolent double,

I wanted so much

I had my thin thighs coated in velvet girlhood,

Stretched at different directions,

Savouring the hard streaks of a love 

Born so tender, it hardly leaves

It was one of those very important things

I don't know if this matters,

Bu-t

The First boy to teach me

My body was for giving

Wanted me more than anyone

That could reach my waist down

 to my hips.