The first time I had sex was in a barn.
He laid me down like a blanket,
smoothed me over.
My edges were tucked.
Windows wide, I saw I
saw the trees sway,
heard the horses moan. The April
fields of lavender looked lovely,
buds ripe, seed ready to spread.
When he buttoned his pants, he
told me he loved me.
A horse head-butted the door.
The trees scratched at the frames.
The lavender lifted. I knew I
knew he was gone
when the air returned to the barn.
Leave a Reply