POETRY

Mother-Body, Full-Moon

By MEGAN MERCHANT  |  21 FEB 2018

This body
is a loop-stitch
crocheting the torn dark.

This body
of leaf litter,
mews and soft-lathered grays.

This body
of wipe-rag
hair and carabiner arms.

This body
of sags, ironing
the art of happy.

I cannot remember
the last time
I hummed

in a room expansive.

 
Or stopped to
look at the tired moon

without thinking
how there’s always
a man

so drunk
lying beneath her,
pawing to milk her.

Megan Merchant lives in the tall pines of Prescott, AZ. She is the author of two full-length poetry collections: Gravel Ghosts (Glass Lyre Press, 2016), The Dark’s Humming (2015 Lyrebird Award Winner, Glass Lyre Press, 2017), four chapbooks, and a children’s book, These Words I Shaped for You (Philomel Books). She was awarded the 2016-2017 COG Literary Award, judged by Juan Felipe Herrera. She is an Editor at The Comstock Review and you can find her work at meganmerchant.wix.com/poet.

RELATED ARTICLES

POETRY

& The Dirt

By SAMMI BRYAN

as in I’m scared
not by how much I need,

but by how much I’m prepared
to wreck to make it

MICRO

Quick Change

By CALLISTA BUCHEN

There is body in the coat closet in the hall by the front door, body under the bed in plastic bins, a pile in the garage by the recycling bin.