Sixteen and *** on the body and soul
As banal a story as any, boys will be boys after all.  But I am a girl —

It’s 1983, he’s nineteen and drives a mean yellow sports car my father could see from afar as he pulled into the driveway way before the three I was expecting - it was lunchtime and I was “sick”
The woodstove fires were out so he came home to stoke -

Ah but this young man
Had already taken care of
That - and when the door opened!
My father’s tight face
Mortified me

Body and soul wrung dry for three decades or more.

They still make those ******* cars.
I just saw one drive down the street
Of my midlife crisis afternoon walk.
My father gone a long time now -
my mother just last week touting as her inheritance! What she shamed me
So very thoroughly for
Then, so
I won’t ask her if she remembers.

My father turned swiftly and fled,
letting my mother fail to handle it.
Boys will be boys.
Girls mustn’t be *****.
He was always proud of me.
She still tells me how I’m doing it wrong, but I just laugh because I know
She doesn’t even own
A *******.

My body listens to my commands.
Back straight, stomach in, legs together.
I have trained it well enough to not sway to the whims of other hands.
The back of my neck has learnt to not tingle at a touch anymore.
The lips don’t quiver when someone says my name.
Boot camp ***** is under control, captain.
No one crosses the line that has been crossed before.
We don’t speak of it,
but the legs did open before they knew how to behave.
With a sneak attack from the side,
And right between my thighs, I found fingers exploring
me like someone walking into the restricted section of the library
with caution and excitement, but all disregard for the rules.
There were no rules then, rather.
My body froze in attention.
I was a pawn and I moved one inch at a time as asked.

My mind led the coup to reclaim the kingdom of my body.
Pleasure remained locked behind doors
And muffled in pillows.
Obedience was learned
when the body woke.
Stay woke, stay woke, stay woke.
I am my own marching band now.
I am my own army.
I fight every day
Defending
Disagreeing
Shoving
Hiding
Covering
Curling in
Curling up
Shouting out
Screaming in.

Fight on, little soldier.
Seek your own pleasure.
But keep your back straight,
your eyes bright,
your laughter in pitch
And your legs closed.