My first kiss was with a guy who was gay
on stage at a New Jersey acting camp.
My sister’s curiosity clawed its way into the nightmare.
She tossed her question into the air, hoping I’d catch it on
the other end of the phone call and
answer.
Girl, did you feel anything at all?
A tornado of detail spun its way through my mind.
It felt hurried and heavy, like a
procrastinated assignment he
had to get done and over with.
His lips felt hard and overly puckered,
wrinkled up and cringed like crumpled up
sandpaper.
The curls on his chin and cheeks
poked at my face mockingly.
He pulled away and chuckled,
but kept his hand in mine.
I suppose this was his way of saying sorry.
Hannah Cardona is a senior majoring in public relations and minoring in English from Jersey City, New Jersey. Poetry has always served as a way for her to keep her imagination and creativity active, saying, “I will always remain grateful for this form of expression.” She also is proud of her Puerto Rican heritage.