My father waits on patients again,
the woman with a knifed spine that almost paralyzed her
first in line, morning breaking across the window
Yesterday, waking from some forgotten dream she found
she could not move, laid back by sleep,
felled for the briefest of moments
before the body returned to itself again.
On evenings he stays on the porch
with beer in a mason jar,
tells us the stories of all his deranged ones
as we lie across his knee.
How beautiful, he said, to be stilled
for a few seconds
and watch the world ending.
Meggie Royer is a writer and photographer from the Midwest who is currently majoring in Psychology at Macalester College. Her poems have previously appeared in Words Dance Magazine, The Harpoon Review, Melancholy Hyperbole, and more. She has won national medals for her poetry and a writing portfolio in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.
male-pattern badness did you see me me take a picture of me walk on the beach to take
picture walking on the beach could reach 100 likes like male-pattern badness bring me the password
her church was music
and her gods dead rock stars
who she joined on an eternal tour
around the furthest reaches
of space and time,
I lied to my fourth therapist,
telling her all of my bogus
achievements while she jotted
them down on a pad in her lap,
hoping that she couldn't smell
the Schnapps on my breath
4x4ever everything I expected 2.5 bedroom gun rack smokestack tread for dread of poor handling known known unknowable star-spangled suspension of disbelief
I have gone astray,
in an esoteric phrase,
lying to the government
about a loaded gun
between my legs.
The gift of childhood is imagination. In Sarah Frances Moran's poem, "Still Alive and Well" love and forgiveness are found in a friendship that withstand the challenges of life.
"Inside my body rests this adventurer.
I know it was birthed by you. The way fresh air
fills your lungs and how a campfire and a cold beer
can be like heaven.
Riding bikes down bayou banks
and tiptoe walking across railroad bridges.
We are wanderers. Romantic gypsies just a little