to my [married] professor *

sure, you leave,

and you do not kiss me,
but before i go, woman

you will.
go ahead, shy away
from color on my lips,
i don’t need to make my
mark visible;
i know where i have been:

up on your classroom table, flat on my
back
you bending between
my thighs, worshiping some-
thing your catholicism has
refused

to explain.
silently closing(&locking)
the door, speaking in breathless
murmurs,
the thrill
of getting
away with it.
you play it cool
but i notice things:

your insistent gaze,
the fact that,
this time

you did not wash the scent of me
off your face.





*B.A. senior thesis poem

yes it's a (mostly) true story. no, it didn't happen at the college i graduated from. nevertheless, it horrified them a bit; so naturally, i read it for senior presentation day.