Lolitas
“It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.”
V. Nabokov, Lolita
They lick lollipops, standing
in the school yard while the sun caresses their
doe-like legs. You see how short
their skirts are, you see how they caress the suckers
with the tips of their tongues,
you sense how their insidious laughter
moves your heart. You can’t stuff your ears with beeswax,
teacher, you can’t hide your erection, teacher.
They stare at you during literature class,
pretending to be interested,
with parted lips, don’t think –
they’re no idiots, they don’t open their mouths in wonder
at your rubbish about Nabokov.
You see how subtly she turns with her knees spread,
how the edge of her stocking’s garter
is barely visible: what’s the subject of interpretation, teacher,
what’s the subject of Your desire, teacher?
Blushing, trembling hands, the stiffness of your rod – they giggle
into their palms, they bow so close that you see sugar crystals
on their lips. You want them to bow lower and lower, teacher, so low,
falling so low that they dislocate their virtue.
After the weekend, you look at their swollen lips –
they won’t lick You, teacher,
They’ll go out into the wide world, they’ll live
like characters in a brand-new novel,
while you stay trapped in one written long ago.
