Then I thought all I had to do was close my eyes
and let him take me, slow and soft
before the rush of clothes and parts and wet.

Then I thought I could say what they said in books
(oh this, oh yes).

Then I thought my body was enough
even with its inadequate breasts and secrets.

Then I thought any lover who wanted me had some claim
as if I were land or a building.

Then the dreams said Oh lord what is this child.

Then I did not wrestle with conscience or scripture.
I did what I did.

Then I thought forgiveness would come like rain or wind.

Then I waited.