Nothing's gonna change By Sara Barnard

     Alfred Grupstra



Nothing’s gonna change

my love for this, this song, this
is everything. This is hormones
running in circles and being
awkward in school discos. After
the RSC visit - when we helped with
sewing, and on the door, and I saw
the leading actress backstage with
her top off, when we thought
the shows might not even
go on without us, we, the thirteen
year olds doing drama -
there was a disco in the studio.

There were often discos, for one thing,
for another. They were always full of pop
and tongues. The first slow dance.

The way I fancied ‘Claudio’

and also Jimmy Hill

but kissed Ryan.

You ought to know, by now, how much I
loathed it. It wasn’t what I expected
and I kept my eyes open wide. One thing
I’m almost sure of: when I whispered

I’d seen the blue angel with nothing much on,
he barked ‘her tits are nothing much’ so
I knew, above all, that I’d never

ask for more from a guy who didn’t share
my joy at the sight of the body of a woman
I barely knew, but who showed me what
backstage could be, what it would be

to be so totally not bothered, so very ok
with just anybody seeing you. She was
still and stary, this star of the stage. She
came in, after the kiss, and smiled.

I’ll never ask for more than that. Her
dreamy smile after the wet and weird-
ness. If I’d closed my eyes, I might not
have seen her see me. Nothing

about any of it was shameful.

The world changed and I was guilty
only of thinking
more.

(After ‘Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You’ by George Benson, performed by Glen Medeiros!)

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Sara Barnard (she/her) is from the UK, has lived in Spain and Canada, and is now based on a sailboat (currently in Central America) with her husband, child, and laptop for company. The last few years have mainly been about parenting and PhDing. She has recently had work accepted by Bone & Ink Press, Glass Poetry Press, Hypertrophic Literary, and Ink & Nebula. Say hi on Twitter: @Sara_Barnard

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