| Crepuscular Notions by Megan Summers I This twilight hour (a dance, a sorting of parts) swells the innards of anyone daring to pay attention I do-- sometimes and feel the twitch of difference a liver of difference, a thyroid of difference a different thought for each damp moment (It is late spring we're hungry for rain the fires are spreading) II I know it is midnight: trees are hushed, given over to the buzz of other life III My life leans--still Each branched hand dissolves, repairs, receives the implosion of darkness It's enough, I tell myself as a root in the ground an imagined provider to this wilderness IV A frog croaks and I know the morning fog the sensation of warm water flowing around my body the taste of ripened fruit the pang of a still-vacant stomach It's enough, I tell myself always at the moment the world comes teeming at me in counteraction |
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A native Floridian, Megan has traveled and lived all along the Southeastern US coast. She currently calls Beaufort, SC home, where she is working toward a Bachelor's Degree in English at the University of South Carolina. She serves as an editor to the university literary magazine, The Pen. When she is not busy being a college student, she work at Beaufort's local library part-time to fund her addiction to books on poetry and art. |