out
of
it
p a g e n i n e
copyright1999-2001, Christine Hamm
sweet sixteen
I was very pretty, but I didn’t know it. I wore too much make-up and I had bad skin. My clothes were tight and shiny and I wore my hair in two half-ponytails, like Mindy in Mork and Mindy. But I was finally able to find someone to sleep with me.
It was painful, and long, and I was drunk. Afterwards I mumbled about unicorns and hid my bloody underwear under my bed. I was filled with self-loathing and a sense of sexual obligation to my new boyfriend. I hated sex. We had it every day in his bed during lunch period, since he lived right next to the school, and then sometimes twice on weekends out in the woods. It always felt like a redwood was being shoved up me, complete with branches and splinters. Once I gave my boyfriend a blow job and bit him badly. I wasn’t sorry. I figured it was pay back. Soon after that he dumped me, despite the fact I cried and begged.
Bite Me*
The South African junkie
bites my breasts
with his broken teeth.
He refuses to believe
the bruises are from him.
I love him in exact proportion
to his disdain.
His rotting breath
flat ass
and constant farts
remind me of a dream
in which I ride a black donkey
in the mountains of a desert
and hit it with a switch.
With his arms around me
I can hear flies
as if we are already dead.
*published by 3am Magazine