Untitled Haibun

megan pastore  


 I wonder, if within that moment, the moment of betrayal began, Blue Marsh on a mellow June day, fake lake and in faker joy we played with synthetic water, my mother never enteredwhen she was a child, her uncle threw her into a pool, forced her to swim, she became turned around, nearly drowned, never did learn her way to the surfacemy cousin floated on her back, through squinted eyes I watched goldenrod bounce off the surface around hera million minnows wanting to be hera weightless, effortless starfish, fish between my legs, or so my nine year old body thought, or hoped, my own heart a smallmouth bass on the shore, gasping for whatever I was before I saw the strange man standing too close for such a large fake lake, false hope fleeting, he turned his head and casually walked away as if searching for something on the opposite shore, something that wasn’t my small, lanky body, toes now gripping every goddamn grain of sand, muscles hardened, hips clenched, my own two fingers holding the spot I was told was wrong to touch, I gained my bearings, and staggered back to the shore.

LeBaron windows
Down, winded face, tousled hair
Car full of secrets   

Author Bio

Megan A. Pastore is an award-winning poet and fiction writer from Chesapeake, VA. She has works published in fiction, creative non-fiction, as well as poetry.  She graduated May 2023 with a BA in English. Recent awards include ODU’s College Poetry Prize sponsored by the Academy of American Poets,  the ODU MFA Program, and the Poetry Society of Virginia. Megan was most recently accepted into Old Dominion University’s Master of Fine Arts program this Fall and has been offered an assistantship to work alongside Poet Laureate of Virginia, Dr. Luisa Igloria, where she will manage the Virginia Poets Database, as well as assume the position of Poetry Editor for Barely South Review.