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Lolita,
light of my life,
fire of my loins.

My sin,
my soul.
Lo- lee- ta:

the tip of the tongue
taking a trip of three
steps down the palate

to tap,
at three,
on the teeth.
Lo. Lee. Ta.
She was Lo,
plain Lo, in the
morning,
standing

four feet ten in one sock.
She was Lola in slacks.
She was Dolly at school.
She was Dolores on the dotted line.

But in my arms
she was always Lolita.


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