blurs iridescent
after meds—
the sun’s dry-light
sleeking drab.
The pain-body
sings musty
as a moth-wing-tongue,
calls you into the room
with coffee
and a garden of oils
to rub the muscles soft—
my skin of yeast and sugar,
my skin of howls
under your hands,
unknotting the
branches
that have thorned
my spine.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 20, Issue 1.
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 forthcoming children’s book with Philomel Books. You can find her work at meganmerchant.wix.com/poet.
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