Summer broke & now, we slide
          under bra straps in secret, praise the tree house & its couch shrine—                            

test our theory body to body. So it's true: we all have arms & legs & no one
          can call us home. Even the last sky before dawn is friendly

when we've stuffed fear's dark throat. Oh no! —We're all turning out
          to be the crooked lovers our teachers expected. Oh, no, they preached

destiny in multiplication
          tables & Ninety-Nine Reasons to Wait & two by two we head

to bathrooms. Know this lecture already. Know what
          daddys mean when they say nothing good

happens after dark. Know daddys want their girls to get shovels & dig down & root.           
          Too bad for daddys—we sing before we choke.

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I think I might have found this poem inside Manley Pointer's hollow Bible.