Botticelli Unmasks the Perp

lost words are wolves hunting heat from the herd, raw desire one day less alone American prom night youth-swept hair moussed down in place cigarettes light, poof there goes Mary's lamb water pail swings from her jaw blind to the boil ahead it begins like a bath soft as the sun's seduction quiet as a rack back window fogs up fingers paint shapes on car's cave condensing moments it was kilning day he, my substitute art teacher ersatz guardian photos of his kids near the hearth of his grandma's basement fireplace I was a student thirteen is an innocence despite the heated clay Sandro knew his kind, let's call him Terry Carter because that's his name