EARLY GIRL and QUEEN ANNE'S LACE by Megan Denton • Cleaver Magazine
TWO POEMS by Megan Denton Early Girl for Allie If they ask you how it felt, say it was like rolling barrels of yourself to the brim, poised on the edge of Spring— a delicately fizzy drink. If they ask you how it felt, tell them it’s the rusty spigot you pass on the way home, the loose valve in your mother’s heart—flittering about instead of doing its business. Even in the side yard that no one mows, tell them that you could sit quietly for hours with a story you’d never heard. You’d imagine bombs falling on the house, ones the color of the geraniums by the front door that’s already gone up into flames. You painted them hundreds of times, red birds laughing with their big, old chains messy and burning on the lily cross. And looking up at them with unpainted eyes, remember the squealing, bloody Jesus … chop! chop! read more!
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