The Student

He sits beside the cutest girl, the blond
who shakes her hair and crunches curls between
her fingers–– like the chef who separates
the pasta strands and hangs them over racks
of wood to dry before he tosses them
into the rolling boil.  The noodles writhe,
Medusa’s snakes, her gaze turns him to stone.

© 2011  Kim King

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About k2king

Poeming to save myself
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