Jen Gayda Gupta
IN HIGH SCHOOL
there was a gaping hallway that led to the library—
my favorite place to hide. I remember that cat
walk of dread, where the boys would wait
to yell at my new thighs, where I learned
the only way out is to shrink until you
disappear, learned that I could suck
the lust from my flesh with each
refused bite, each trip to the
bathroom, a swirl of their
hunger flushed down
the drain. The first
time I let a boy
reach for my
dissolved
hip, I held
my breath
ashamed,
waiting
for him
to find
nothing
but
lonely
bones.