A virgin writes of her sexual experience
In a high and lofty way,
But it's a delay,
A filibuster,
A green stone wall,
An innocent nude
Awash in a chiffon duster,
Making an in-adept judgment call.
Poor thing.

But someday she'll know,
If she can be unschooled,
Which are, and are not
The made up rules of love,
And then she'll stand impressed,
As sea breezes blow
On a canvas of Monet,
And be aware completely,
And never bother to write
Or to dare say anything
About the unspeakable tangents
Of carnal knowledge.

-jenn