Kendra DeColo’s “My Dinner With Ron Jeremy” is available here: thirdmanstore.com/kendra-decolo-my-dinner-with-ron-jeremy
Published on Feb 9, 2017
From My Dinner with Ron Jeremy (Third Man Books 2016) | Available at Thirdmanbooks.com
Written and read by: Kendra DeColo
Directed and Illustrated by: Poni Silver
Video: Doug Lehmann
Production Assistance: Evelyne Gichingiri
Featuring in order of appearance:
Mikah Wyman Stuible
Kendra DeColo is the author of My Dinner with Ron Jeremy (Third Man Books, 2016) and Thieves in the Afterlife (Saturnalia Books, 2014), selected by Yusef Komunyakaa for the 2013 Saturnalia Books Poetry Prize and named “Favorite Nashville Poetry Book of 2014” by the Nashville Scene. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Gulf Coast, Ninth Letter, Indiana Review, Copper Nickel, Verse Daily, Third Man Books’ Language Lessons Vol. I, and elsewhere. She has received awards and fellowships from the MacDowell Colony, the Bread Loaf Writers Conference, the Millay Colony, and the Tennessee Arts Commission. She is book editor at Muzzle Magazine and guest teaches poetry at Sarah Lawrence College. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee.
When You’re 15 and the Hospital Pharmacist Hits on
You While Filling Your Prescription for Plan B
Resist the urge to give him your phone number.
Tell him he looks good in white, because he does. Do not peel
back the gauze at the crease of your elbow. Do not look
at the small glint of blood, remembering
The first time a man pulled your tampon out with his teeth,
or the English teacher or the friend’s father.
Tell the pharmacist, sorry, the phlebotomist already asked you out.
Tell him you said yes because he tapped your vein
like a fuse, humming to its fattest point, that he drew your blood
with a patience so inconsequential it hurt, and the white walls
stung while you waited together for the vials to fill,
dark and oxygenated. That afterwards you craved
a glass bottle of coke, winced when he took
the needle out of its socked. Tell him this and leave
the smooth jazz and the boxes of cough syrup and Tylenol
in the luminous rows, touching each one before you go.
When he winks, let it fizzle into ash. Tell him your blood
Is so thick it would ravage his veins.
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