for k, part 1
I know we are situated in this hour
stretching in all directions to every hour
at each moment I see us
and do not grieve like a dog I want you to fix
your attention here on me which is too much
I am not careful and I cannot suffer getting
what I ask for I am growing
a little fungus of revenge
and cannot wait to eat it
and let it rock through me and send me swaying
out there to where I cannot speak
or even salivate like a dog in high desert sun
I am dry and soft and slow
you are giving me freckles you’re burning me
-
Meagan Dermody is a Southern transplant writing poetry in the Midwest. Her work has appeared in zines including Emily Taylor Center's FEMINIST FRIGHT FEST 2021 zine and RABBIT, as well as literary magazines like PWATEM and Awkward Mermaid. A third-year MFA student at the University of Kansas, Meagan's work engages with trauma, ecosomatics, and the divine/grotesque/divine. She prides herself on being fun at parties and in the line at the grocery store, and is working hard to keep her aloe plant alive.