Flightless Limbs Even for a Piscean, she was precarious, reeling from caramel blond to raspberry red in the blink of a hot blue star. Wracked with anticipatory grief, as frozen as February daffodils, she appeals to the dark-eyed junco battling its bay window reflection with wildcat ammunition. Interactive silence becomes her misplaced language, cosmetic sunrays splintered on the uncombed lawn. There are always less and less colors to wear to baptisms anymore.
—Submitted on 10/04/2022
Megan Denese Mealor is the author of the poetry collections Bipolar Lexicon (Unsolicited Press, 2018), Blatherskite (Clare Songbirds Publishing House, 2019), and A Mourning Dove’s Wishbone (Cyberwit, 2022). Her poems and photographs have appeared in journals including Brazos River Review, Across the Margin, Typehouse Magazine, The Disappointed Housewife, The Wise Owl, and The Writing Disorder. Mealor lives in Jacksonville, Fla., with her husband, son, and three rescue cats.
Editor’s Note: The series title Flush Left refers to the fact that, due to our limited WordPress skills, we are only considering poems that are flush left. Poems already in our Submittable queue that have simple non-flush-left formatting may be considered for publication.
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