I was asked to put my lips around the tube
that pistoned jam into the hearts of donuts.
He had been there longer than any of us,
he knew about bread. He tried his luck,
asking every Saturday for a kiss –
he’d only slide his tongue inside my mouth
for a second. I wasn’t ready
but I liked his eyes on me as I stood
at the sink and sucked. Sucked so hard my cheeks
ached from the effort, thick gluey jam
suddenly sweet in my mouth. Spat out
it bobbed in the dirty water, fresh blood red.
Previously Published in Rialto
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