Now say it: make friction
with your lips & breath.
You already have at the edge
of your mind, now take it
into your mouth.
Open wide, let out stink.
Not how your love grew
a mile a day. None of the
swelling you’ve felt through
your chest. No stories at all
from your silly red heart –
lying bitch perched amidst
your ribs – this is the place
to let out your shit. What
you need to hear vibrating
each tooth at its root is
how much you would rather
not have this.
How you know you’ve
been duped & would return
to before. How you hate them
as much as you love &
oh, how you love.
—
Megan Neville (she/her) is a writer and educator based in Cleveland. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in West Branch, Pleiades, Poets.org, Cherry Tree, wildness, Sundog Lit, Grist, and elsewhere. Her poetry collection The Fallow is forthcoming from Trio House Press in July 2022. She is an editorial assistant for Split Lip Magazine, and you can find her on Twitter @MegNev.
Photography by: Tom Rogerson
