Thirteen

Thirteen, blond, with knowing eyes,
Flashing restlessness and desire,
Street boys' lips tinged with
The mischievous, even, yes, the vicious.
He is reading: in the study hall
The others are bent, writing an exercise,
He alone, in a corner, reads
Smutty poems by Musset;
The proctor passes by; quickly he hides himself,
Pretending devoted concentration,
At some nebulous task,
Working properly, neatly, without stains,
Calm again, the moment passed,
Resumes his reading, flushing,
Shifting slowly
To be deeper in shadow;
Slips his hands, unobserved,
Into his pocket pierced by a hole,
And there, for a while, fondles his toy,
Lost dreaming in feline sensualities!

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