Megan J. Arlett

You felt him once, pressed against
the back of your neck
in the slice of night
between moonset and day.
Were-lipped, were-cheeked,
were-palms pressed
against your stomach, stinking
of entrails
and loneliness.
He has known you
and must
have felt your soul call kin
through the darkness
to where he skulked along the bayou.
Must think your shiver
a recognition, the pressing
back against his chest
a kind of intimacy.


Author Bio

Megan J. Arlett was born in the UK, grew up in Spain, and now lives in Texas where she is pursuing her PhD. The recipient of two Academy of American Poets Prizes, her work has appeared in Best New Poets 2019, Best New British and Irish Poets, The Kenyon Review, Ninth Letter, Passages North, Prairie Schooner, and Third Coast.