Napkin

I use the Napkin to cover my virginity.

Mom always says to put a napkin on my lap

And so I do

Aunt Bell never uses a napkin

She lives dangerously

Then I look down

I see white purity running over me

I feel safe

It’s quilted

I run my finger tips over its texture

My eyes close

But all I see is that clever napkin

That protective layer

My sister doesn’t use a napkin

She’s loose

Just like Aunt Bell she lives on the edge

She presses the wine to her lips

No fear of spills

No fear of droplets

My father, king of the castle, stares her down

Ashamed she’s chosen wine

My napkin saves her and I both

When father sees my napkin he’s elated

Purity has nothing on wine