Belinda's in my seminar
and always comes late.
The classroom is at the end of a hall
and everybody can hear her coming,
her heels are so loud on the hard floor.
Cheeks pinched to flush,
and black stockings under
her crepe-thin skirt,
Belinda has layers and
she has colors.
Belinda sits beside me and when
assignment sheets get passed around
I pass her the stack, and
our hands touch,
she is stovehot warm, burns
glittertrails on my body
where her fingers graze my skin.