Fritsch’s 6th Image: An Ekphrasis
poem by April Frances Federico
You pull my waist closer to your torso,
but it really feels like you’re yanking it with a rope.
The rope is like a noose
snapping the neck of my innocence.
I, too, am hanging by your love.
I am a virgin talking about sex,
how does that sound to you?
All the weight in my front slams into yours,
but the testosterone already hit you badly.
God, ye men.
Meanwhile, my lips hunger for more.
I take the lead.
along with my armor,
into the firing line.
By the end of the night,
My behind is covered in hand prints
My front has never felt so powerful
I overlook the mess of the battle scene
from the night before,
and I shout to you,
“Lieutenant, front and center!”
We face forward,
and I reach to pull at your rear cheeks.
I don’t know, there’s just something
about the back side of the body
that people want to take
a stab at first.
All innocence is pronounced dead.