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She wonders if I’ll stay but doesn’t have the guts to ask,
watches me slip out of my skin at night and transform into a ghost that only knows how to practice forgetting. This is her curse: doomed to pluck the strings of the violin growing inside her belly each evening until the day when its scroll will break through her and out into the morning air, alive. She watches me drink and sometimes we kiss when the absinthe has done its job but mostly we know I spend the days peeling cinnamon into a box of bone, hoping for a miscarriage.
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Meggie RoyerMeggie 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, Winter Tangerine Review, Chanter Literary Magazine, Literary Sexts Volume 1, Hooligan Magazine, and Rib Cage Chicago Literary Magazine. In March 2013 she won a National Gold Medal for her poetry collection and a National Silver Medal for her writing portfolio in the 2013 National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. She also has two published poetry books, Survival Songs and Healing Old Wounds with New Stitches. Her work can be found at writingsforwinter.tumblr.com. |
