soul teacher

the girl knew that he had moved her. that his hand had closed around her heart, like lilies over tiny ghost frogs.

he is here in the dilation of her pupils, in the photograph she places in the drawer, in the silences and the laughter. in the sweet sweat that collects along the beads of her spine and in the way they look at each other across smoke-filled rooms filled with people who watch them and know.

the way they look at each other. the way they look away.