“THE REVERED FEMME BOTTOM” by Amber Dawn

published in Where the words end and my body begins (2015)

I love every loud mouthed hard assed fuck with you

skin soft like a loquat as they punch your cunt into infinity femme

I love girls who will fuck you up for no

and every good reason

— “I Love Hard Girls,” Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarashinha

The first woman (besides your mother) to slap your face

painted her bedroom floor red a few days before your date

and your knees sank into gummy coats of enamel while she

made you wait. Her window was wide open, undraped, and August

heat bulldozed in and all your sounds blow-horned out.

She said relax your jaw and you wondered what made her choose

leather and if your cheeks smarted as handsome bright

as the floorboards. Afterwards her pupils

were lust-drug dilated. I love a dirty fuck she cooed

I love every loud mouthed hard assed fuck. With you

being so spring chicken—you hardly knew

what you loved but you bought yourself

a harness and cock at the womyn’s sex shop

and joined the other dykes in the phallus procession.

The dog collar and wrist cuffs acquired for fashion

or foreshadowing. Lip piercings damned your smile.

Your scalp confessed to a Bic razor. You made anger your order.

When you pronounced your cunt a warrior the daddies

trained their mad eyes on you. Suited denim rough, but bare

skin soft like a loquat as they punched your cunt into infinity. Femme

you never considered yourself femme

until a lover hailed you, femme slut pretty pretty

Honorific. Femme meant worship

this lover, devoted, Please, femme-gasm

for me, soak the sheets with your femme

If memory serves, this may have been

the first time you were proud of your body.

Only a fire-gut can ejaculate like you.

A sparkplug sweet thing. A true

lover of girls who will fuck you up. For no

one could have told you

the dearest souls roll rough trade.

This bit of brilliance showed itself bit by bit.

Fuck by loud-mouthed hard-assed fuck you learned

to receive adoration just as well as you took a beating.

No one could have told you adoration

would trial and thrill you more than welts

on your young skin. Reverence’s markings

are permanent, and so reverence you were given