Confession to Red Bird – M.E. Riley

He tried to fuck a boy
but instead came
to my apartment

My hair wet with bullets
he fingered each drunkenly
accidently fired in bed
of my red truck

Full-lipped kisses
my hands felt
girl on boy body
skinny white like yours
His name yours

Drove him home after
our night but couldn’t let
go of how it felt
to play straight

I should want it
him us the truck bed
hollow enough
for our load

Told him I was pregnant
lost it after too many
pills spilled down throat

He said we were
a mistake and happy
we didn’t make something
we would regret

M.E Riley, A Cali baby raised in Arkansas, now sweating in New Orleans.  She is both Associate Poetry Editor and Blog Editor for Bayou Magazine.  Work is forthcoming or most recently featured in Bop Dead City, The Rain, Party, and Disaster Review, Ghost Ocean Magazine, The Feminist Wire,  similar:peaks::, Every Day Poems, Belle Journal, Eunoia Review, Nude Bruce Review, Best of Tales From the South: Vol. 6, and Ovolution: Little Rock.

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