I allowed you to sail me over lake beds, pull me up cliffs, across broken bridges. But I could not kiss you with any trace of thunder, even when the sun was sinking into so many oceans. You told me once that there would never be enough sky, but always, always too many stars. You wished you could count them with your heart. Love was the sacks of luminous, worthless stones you made me carry up and down blue mountains.
Previously published in Digital Americana, Fall 2012
I have grown a little eccentric, a little discontent, I suppose, since I moved my corner rocking chair to the very center of the den near the growling, grinning heater to cover the carpet’s balding bald spot and began turning the volume to heaven to drown out the absence of snoring in the fireplace glow of yellow-orange and flashing turquoise tongues.
I must admit, I have also grown a little unnerved by the eerie reverie of snow-silent cats.
Previously published in The Bitchin’ Kitsch, April 2015
A Faith, Rotting
She wore the kind of cross necklace you would find in a bargain box, the holy rejects of sacrilegious salesgirls, their pearls undulating, effulgent. She didn’t care that the gold shed itself into a bastard green, branded and belligerent against her pale butterfly of a throat. To her, there was a beautiful irony in the decay of something so consecrated with sadness. To her, there was no religion without the ululation of a mother’s lamentation, rotting into romance, idolatry in the immaculate inferiority–a necklace losing sight of heaven faster than she did the night God weighed her losses, wrote them into being.
Previously published in Deep South Magazine, April 2014
Megan Denese Mealor echoes and erases in her native land of Jacksonville, Florida. Nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and a current Best of the Net Poetry nominee, Megan’s poetry, fiction, and photography have been featured in literary journals worldwide, most recently Across the Margin, Brazos River Review, Typehouse Magazine, The Disappointed Housewife, and The Wise Owl. She has authored three poetry collections: Bipolar Lexicon (Unsolicited Press, 2018), Blatherskite (Clare Songbirds Publishing House, 2019), and A Mourning Dove’s Wishbone (forthcoming from Cyberwit, 2022). A survivor of bipolar disorder, Megan’s main mission as a writer is to inspire others feeling stigmatized and paralyzed for their mental health. She and her husband of ten years, Tony, their 9-year-old son, Jesse, who was diagnosed with autism at age three, and three mollycoddled rescue cats coexist in a cozy, cavernous townhouse ornamented with vintage ads for Victorian inventions.