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The Good News Is That No One Is Coming to
Save You, So You Have No One to Wait For.

Sara Sherr

Leslie Jamison says unacknowledged shame enters our brains as
anger, spinning madly around, so maybe that’s why in gym class
Megan punches my face again and again, she’s

dislocated my jaw, her pain ricochets
through my alleyways.

“She’s not worth it,” Maria says, ripping Megan off me.
She’s not worth it. Maria means me, I wasn’t worth it
in the first place and now I’m muddy

and bleeding on the ground. But Megan is fighting
to get back to me. Thrashing against her friends
to get to me. Weeks later in detention Megan sits on my lap

and holds my face in her palms. “Did I hurt you?” she says,
and my heart screams with the effort of not kissing her.
More weeks, more heart screaming effort, then Megan’s gone

sent to Anorexia rehabilitation and for the rest
of high school the halls shiver
in her absence. They remember when she was princess.