The Last Time I Got [ ] by Jameson Fitzpatrick

The Last Time I Got [ ]

 

I only let him

because he was sort of famous

and I wanted to say I had.

 

And the time before that,

because he was sort of straight

and I wanted to have my say—

 

and before that,

because he was there,

and he was going to.

 

Once Jacques got in,

where I wanted him,

but not all the way

 

and I wouldn’t let him

move it, I just

finished myself off and burst

 

into tears. It was fine,

I was fine, it was just a lot,

what Lot wouldn’t let

 

his neighbors do

to the angels. And he didn’t

even know they were angels.

 

Lot has nothing to do

with it, why I won’t.

Or can’t, if will isn’t the thing.

 

But isn’t the mind the body.

Isn’t mine, and what has

been done to it, and how:

 

plucked like a flower

versus

plucked like a string.