IN ALL BUT NAME. 1961

A GIRL AND HER SECRET SEXUAL GAMES WITH A BOY IN MIND IN 1961

Lizbeth spreads her legs
like a butterfly it's wings
on a bloom;

runs a dampened finger
down the inside
of her thigh,

as she hopes Benedict
may do sometime
or wishes he would or had;

fingers her Eden bush,
eyeing the ceiling
of the room;

listening to her mother's
crash and bang
in the kitchen

preparing tea,
her father's dull
conversation about his day,

about his work.
It isn't as good
as it says in the book,

the book the girl loaned
at school, private collection,
tell no one else,

she's said,
passing it over
in the girls' loo

at school.
Benedict is on her mind,
her fingers and touches

are his imagined,
working the game
in all but name.