There will be a hound baying in the distance & the flowers, that have just passed
their bloom day, will slosh in their glass mouths, drunk, & the sermon will grow
loud at times, generic as a hot dish brought to grief’s door & the collective breath
will flinch at victim, too soon, amen, which means all men & someone will share
that the new child’s pose is supine in a casket & someone else will try to make it
better by saying there’s a quick flash of light before a gun goes off & maybe that’s
what we’re all mistaking for heaven.
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. She was awarded the 2016-2017 COG Literary Award, judged by Juan Felipe Herrera. She is an Editor at The Comstock Review.
