It’s night and I’m feeling awful, sitting in my dorm’s
study pod waiting for the next day so I can finally
see what Harvard thinks of me. Not like I care. But

oh I do because what if they say No, or Maybe, or
Yes? The Qur’an is open in front of me. I have a
paper to formulate and a myth to write, and it’s

almost eleven o’clock and I’m tired, and I begin to
think back on my last Maybe, my first deferral this
month. He was a sweet boy. The first I’ve ever liked who

treated me as if I was worth the time, like I was
the answer to things that he could never
know could never feel could never stop

wanting. I asked him out one frigid evening on the steps
up to his dorm. He said Can I text you about it? and I said sure,
opened the door, said goodbye, and our friends were telling me

He’s probably just thinking about it and that if anything it
wasn’t a straight-up No and hey it might be a Yes with a
cloak on it that he’s just getting ready to rip off but

the next morning I got the text. He was gentle, and
modest, and I was horrified, embarrassed, and didn’t
eat for three days. I look around the study pod. It’s

empty. Midnight’s coming, my paper on the Qur’an isn’t
finished, the myth’s story has yet to be devised. And
with all this work I open my iMessages on my

computer, clicking to the texts the two of us sent each
other, scrolling back to find the one where he said
there hasn’t been a single set of circumstances in which i

didn’t love being around you, in which i
didn’t feel challenged and inspired by you, in which
i didn’t think the world of you.

“You hear that?” I ask the couch, the chairs, the
doors and the windows. “He thought the world of me.”

Morning comes and Harvard decides and when I get
their answer I see his face, hear his words and feel the
way you feel when someone promises to tell you later.


Image Credit:Tim Sackton
Jack Becker is a New York City native who recently graduated from a boarding school in New Hampshire. When he's not reading or writing, he is acting, singing, walking to the bodega on the corner for ice cream, or attending therapy. His work has been published in Dime Show Review and the Claremont Review.


  1. Jack. I am a fan of this interesting poem. It has strong bones, 2 parallel things building up and falling hopefully–more to come left to the imagination. I love it mostly for the strength and perseverance it’s inspired in me. Rock on.

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