perhappened mag
issue 8: LOVERS
to potential future lovers,
about the past one
MEGAN NICHOLS
What he is is mist suspended - a cough
caught in my throat. What it was is spore-sponge
in the lungs. Find the old-fashioned ice-cream
scoop and scrape me empty. Pile rot up
round and tidy for the countertop display.
Where I am is uneven ground; the gravel
in the road digs little caves into my cheek.
You could rent a room in one.
You could join me and we could grow
mold together in his leftover damp.
caught in my throat. What it was is spore-sponge
in the lungs. Find the old-fashioned ice-cream
scoop and scrape me empty. Pile rot up
round and tidy for the countertop display.
Where I am is uneven ground; the gravel
in the road digs little caves into my cheek.
You could rent a room in one.
You could join me and we could grow
mold together in his leftover damp.
Megan Nichols works as a copywriter and lives in the Ozark Mountains. Her poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming in journals such as Pretty Owl Poetry, Variant Lit, FEED Lit, Autofocus, River Mouth Review, among others. Twitter: @mgnchols; Instagram: @megjnic.