Poetry by Kait Quinn

Enoch Leung CC




WROUGHT IRON FENCE TO THE HEART, OR THE SUMMER I LOST MY VIRGINITY

I watched The Virgin Suicides every weekend
that summer. Wished on each passing plane
I mistook for falling meteor—cherry
coke and unhooked bras, boys slipping salt
hands up my skirt on sandpaper rooftops. I wanted
to fill my mouth seraphic with cloud-cream
white, rinse my teeth with pink lemonade, baby
doll dress and roller skates. I wanted the blanket
spread on the football field, storm of sprinklers,
limbs dissection splayed. And if I couldn't,
I wanted the vermillion choker, lungs carbon
monoxide swollen, wrought iron fence to the heart.
I never did grow breasts worth uncaging.
I disappeared in the sun. Lost my virginity to a high school
senior who only wanted me in the backseat of his Honda,
wet with sharp sighs and July condensation,
a playground parking lot twelve miles
from where anyone might find us.

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Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. Her work has appeared in Reed Magazine, Last Leaves Magazine, Crosswinds Poetry, Chestnut Review, and others. By day, Kait is a legal assistant living in Minneapolis with her partner, their regal cat (Spart), and their very polite Aussie mix (Jesse).