American
One time my mom walked in on me doing it.
She shrieked and started screaming about how
only American girls did that sort of thing
and how her little daughter
wasn’t going to be a slut.
And I said,
but I am an American girl mama!
And that means I’ll be who I want to be!
So to prove it, I put my hand to my crotch and
started bucking as hard as my little
Lithuanian ass would go,
until my mother threw herself
across my lap and clutched my hands
so hard I thought they would pop.
We were both screaming when my father
came in stomping,
demanding to know what we were fighting about,
because we sounded like a pig fight
and it was giving him a headache.
We will have no pigs in my home! He said,
and put down his boot.
Mama clutched at me harder before she threw me
off the bed and ripped my shirt,
exposing my braless chest.
Our daughter insists on being an American whore,
she said.
Father looked at her and smirked. He lifted
my chin roughly and turned my head this way
and that, examining me as if for lice
or a broken nose,
all the while saying to her,
we live in America now Sylvia,
she is American now –
we all are –
and she gets to chose whether
To be a whore.