THURSDAY, JANUARY 17

Geneva has started waiting at my locker

and it’s almost like on Valentine’s Day when you get to school

wondering if there will be a red heart waiting at your desk,

a rose, a massive stuffed bear.

Geneva is more than all these things, and less obvious—

her smile is like a secret just for me, even though

now that we have started walking down the hall

shoulder to shoulder, people sometimes turn

and look, wondering.

I can’t tell if they’re worried for her safety—

new girl unaware whose proximity she’s entered—

or if they see the thing that I feel:

a sun rising out of the teacup of her smile,

filling the space between us with light,

warming me for the few minutes

before we part again for class.