Posts Tagged: Megan Amram
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A Poem By Megan Amram

Ice Queen

5 a.m. (4 a.m. EST)

The island from above Became a hook, gesturing. Filled with sounds, The shape of three fingers.

The family, bereft, Witness to the 5 a.m. The bruise-colored money left. The motorcade on the left.

The slit, a haiku: Focused, deep as a tap. To stab a man, To write a haiku.

Crimson almost-morning: The abettor. Bermuda has One more flower.

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Two Poems By Megan Amram

Letter to My Future Child

The way you don’t exist is remarkable When I have been hotwired, cobbled from Spongy tubes specifically to birth. At least to bud

Would be preferable, shedding a child Like petals drooping from a center. I apologize profusely to you,

But I am content in my selfishness and My love of this girl I’ve created. Today I watched the bees graze,

The perfect mix of threat and song and binge, And I felt I, too, could bob and maneuver. I guess they reminded me of you:

Your toddling bumble, your absent suckle, Your mere addition to the swarm.

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A Poem By Megan Amram

Chang’e

The man in the moon is a woman in China: Chang’e, moon goddess, twinkle-checked, chic night-speck in the black that smears and tacks like an anemone.

While the world sleeps, Chang’e sleeps next to her husband Houyi and his jade rabbit and jade arrows and penchant for archery.

Each night is lithe vinyl: stars dimpling like quartz in hand, the quilted scalp of space-time and Chang’e’s moon slowly fuguing into the middle: the fingers of gravity; the Chang’e yo-yo.

Thanks to Chang’e, the moon is eyed. Green fish have eyes in their pistachio hulls, so too spiders, and circa-bauble flies, and the tiny spacemen that float equidistant from the [...]

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Two Poems By Megan Amram

Manischewitz

Red wine, the cure for common sobriety— dizzy tea, sweet like molten meat—is just as Jewish as any rite, any tight briar of Hebrew letter, any fetter of Israelite slave or Yid-friar. No one should build a pyramid with a hangover, I think it’s written, but still that Jew-gang, tendons stretched like strings of sitars, Seder-clenched their livers at the green pea Nile, slurped purpled red wine, clacked bricks, and acted Exodus, the awe, optic, the carafe, Coptic; Pharaoh punch-drunk, Hieroglyphic-fistic.

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A Poem By Megan Amram

Thank You

Gaud, lea, spry, loaf, spawn, scalp, slake, splay: (Pause for laughter). Thank you all for coming, for surviving those infamous six to ninety-four years of famine, ostensibly living off grape juice (Krane’s “zippy violet pilot of sustenance”), violent riots to claim last cups of java, searing coffee crop-dusting a talc on the tongue. Truly, the first hit of it at the top of the throat makes me believe that I have been drowning, and that, being revived, I am taking the first

gasp of breath, the rest of my life, so, thank you.