The Northville Review
an online literary journal
High School Party

Elizabeth F. A. Meaney

Beneath your varsity jacket there’s a bleeding throat,
and you greet me with four-syllable words.
On the staircase next to your Converse All-Stars,
I’ll keep it quiet that you know so much.

I am greeted by boys who press their chests to
Girls who stir screwdrivers with their
Fingers entwined in fingers, it figures, they’re
Drunk on the staircase makes her
Sister sick on the welcome mat and front

Steps over the ski-capped stoners who talk
Slow dance against your hips with your sweat in my
Fist in his jaw makes his gums bleed, his eyes
Tear a hole in the seat of your open-topped Jeep
where I feel free at forty miles an hour.

Someone’s North Face jacket got robbed, but
why would you bring two hundred dollars to a party?
The thief left in a BMW to meet 12:30 curfew.
We stayed and got drunk.

Gossip catches in your curls and you shake the
Flies out of your ears in time to the
Stereo drowns out the news that she’s in
Bed with the handsome pot dealer instead of
You kept time with the quarterback and the
Beer-pong ball and the quarter note got the
Beat-boxing boy stayed all night, un-
Invited to the back porch he puts a joint to my
Lips of a shaggy-haired stranger, I laugh, shake my
Head back to the kitchen where you’re red in the
Face the fact that we’re not getting
Laid in the backyard where smoke blurs the stars.

In the stitches of my Seven Jeans,
you’ll scavenge a secret.
I’m a wallflower; don’t tell the boys who love me.

About the author

Elizabeth F.A. Meaney has published a novella, "Bennett Riley." Her poetry has appeared in The Furnace Review, The Literary Bohemian, Ya'Sou Literary Magazine and Cicada Magazine.