You smile
As you rip calendars
With your teeth,

Wanting
Summer to come soon,

Hopefully
This semester won’t take long,

Maybe
We won’t feel tomorrow.

The way your earrings dance
When you cock your head
Says cheerful small talk
Is your specialty.

But I hear death’s
Hollow shouts
Echoing in each drop of
Honey that slides
Down the sides
Of your mouth

And sticks
To the day planner
You clutch on your desk.