Poems & Essays

21 Sep

Sons

General/Column One Response

One child wakes in the grey bite of morning,
he needs to know where bodies
go after death.

She promises to hold the weight
of that question until he is grown
enough to care for it,

promises she will help him look
for clues along the way, reads
him back to sleep.

Her own dreams blend and sag
like painted handprints glopped
onto fine paper,

her waking hours get buried
in the rattle-hum of clothes washing,

cinder in the day-heat oven,
pinch in the sweaty breaths of her husband’s
late-night body.

She is lisped, salt-dried, seedless.

but when the baby wakes, in a hungry fit,
she’ll spoon what’s left of her words
into his sounding mouth.

 

Megan Merchant graduated from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas after completing her M.F.A degree in poetry. Her poems and translations have appeared in publications including the Atlanta Review, Kennesaw Review, Margie, International Poetry Review and The Poetry of Yoga. She was the winner of the Las Vegas Poets Prize, judged by Tony Hoagland. Translucent, Sealed, is her first chapbook publication though Dancing Girl Press. Her first full-length collection, Gravel Ghosts, is forthcoming though Glass Lyre Press. Her first children’s book, These Words I’ve Shaped For You, will be appearing in 2016 through Philomel Books. Her future is bright. She wears shades.

 

 

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1 Comment

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  1. Tricia

    October 4, 2015 at 3:09 am

    Oh Megan. I read this this once, twice, then one more time. I love the dive (that’s how it felt to me when I read “She is lisped, salt-dried, seedless) and then the turn at the end. Thanks for the read,
    Tricia Reed

    Reply

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