In his office
the ruddy face
sweeps down
white lips to hers
stubble-white chin
coming in at an angle
white hair over white
brows over white
lashes blue
eyes narrowing
from pecked corners
years of years
lips of lips
Mr. Fisher’s wrinkled lips
under the white mustache
between creases
and his tongue between teeth.
That night
the girls ask to hear
again and again
the part about the eyes
the lips the tongue
and they laugh
laugh and they laugh
and loll and laugh
until Bess’s room
is the only one in the dorm
with lights on.