While the others switch partners, we stay together, working on our steps, fumbling and laughing. I’m slick with sweat and the forcefield of heat under his shirt pulls me closer. Over his shoulder, I stare past the other students, past the low balcony wall and the wires. A constellation of starlings lifts above, swooping and swirling, shape-shifting into a question mark in the sky. I want to live inside of that question. A shimmering freedom, a sharp aliveness, comes from the answer not mattering. We attempt a vuelta, then move closer yet; his long fingers catch on my wedding ring.
Suzanne Roberts is the author of Animal Bodies, Bad Tourist, and Almost Somewhere, as well as four poetry collections. www.suzanneroberts.net suzanneroberts.substack.com Instagram: @suzanneroberts28