Below is a poem I started to write last year as part of a group piece. The context no longer really applies…but it makes me chuckle all the same.
The Virgin Survival Guide
….at this point in my virtuous tenure
I know better than Jamie Lee Curtis herself how to survive a horror film
to run out the door not up the stairs
bedrooms are upstairs
bedrooms are most often where sex happens
under no circumstances are you getting out alive if you’re getting freaky.
Letting your testosterone fueled movie cliché of a boyfriend play just the tip
after hours of begging never ends well on a normal day
throw in a masked serial killer with a vendeda for vagina
and you’ve died with your regrets stained across the bed sheets
Leaving your mother to identify your body with no clean underwear
and scratch marks down your back.
I may find myself bruised
perhaps even missing a small appendage
but in the end police blankets wrapped around shoulders
are an Olympic flag for the winning country of “Abstainia”
The curb outside the crazy mans house my pedestal
There is no silver medal in survival