Growing Up Without Women

Always an imbalance
of mortification and bliss,
perfect by standards of ignorance.
I remember
wearing no underwear.
I remember
liking to be naked with others.
Of course it was childish.

My parents had no other daughters,
And my mother no sisters,
My father no brothers in a family of seven.
Women, outsiders.

I liked kissing.
I kissed boys and girls.
I touched them too.
I never touched myself.
I became invisible and untouchable
inside myself.
My period started in the summer.
A missionary wife bought me ice cream.
I was ten?
I was eleven?
I was shown pornography, too,
Asked for sex when I was ten,
offered money,
Fingered when I was sixteen.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen:
Love stories of sad, lost women,
and strong, resilient Christian men.
No sexuality, just gender.
No reality and no education.