The heater's working,
and the foreign language rooms
have taken on a European summer climate.
He has decided it is too warm.
The sweatshirt clings to the t-shirt underneath,
and is reluctant to release its grip.
Her gaze gravitates to skin
as fabric slides skyward over his spine.
She keeps her mouth shut; lets her eyes water instead.
A quick glace around:
others are learning to communicate.
she frees her hungry eyes,
and with them her wild hopes.
art is not (yet) enough.
a shoulderblade looks so different
when still and rigid on a cavas,
reduced to line and color.
she is starved for muscle,
full-bodied and supple, moving under her hands.

Folds return to their rightful pattern;
She ushers her thoughts back into line.
Makes a fist.
She will allow her fingertips to twitch
later, reliving a memory.