After uncle died moon overthrew sun and listen,
we are breaking bread with our two good hands
our brains tumorless and full of cells that work, that waltz
unheeded through some fluid called space
and after uncle died, mother always stumbles
over how many brothers she has when strangers ask
about the family --
do ghosts count as part of the present
or just bodies of standing water?
About the author:
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, Winter Tangerine Review, The Harpoon Review, and more. 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. Her work can be found here.