Never before had the sun expelled him with such certainty.
Never before had the words ‘never again’
sung as deep as the deepest bell.
For weeks each recess had been a kingdom of kisses,
a wet kingdom of mint and garlic and milk,
the flights up the singing iron stairs half-tag, half-grope.
And now, to be the flimsy vessel of her sternest never-again.
So this is what was meant when one’s stomach dropped
and fairies lit fires on one’s ears.
Weak words offered themselves,
a nuzzling whimper climbed up the throat’s ladder,
but even the beauty of Pilar and Pilar’s mouth
would not make ransom of his pride.
In this alone was there some secret wealth,
all other things shared among a carnival of boys,
each with a pocketful of kisses to spend.
He would not beg, nor even ask.
He would freeze her in a pouting frame
and long after she had forgotten his name
he would unveil her image and remember her,
leaning against the damp wall, arms behind her back,
eyes closed, lips parted, heart beating beneath his.