I’ve been told when one sense falters,

MEGAN MERCHANT

the others sharpen. I cradle a pinecone, let it prick my hands red—I want

proof I’ve touched. Like ash. My neighbor’s burn pile stifles

the coop quiet, we don’t wake like we’re used to, the rooster

afraid to breathe fire. This year, they’ve decided dandelions will

be allowed to yellow the yard. Their numbers climb each day.

I have seen so many mute ladders— we are all too afraid to fall. Except

the old man at the end of the block, hanging rusted cans from storm-broke

limbs. He is celebrating the natural cause of their death. When I walk past,

we wave half-mast, then stare at the boat shored on cement blocks.

Megan Merchant lives in the tall pines of Prescott, AZ with her husband and two children. She holds an M.F.A. degree in International Creative Writing from UNLV and is the author of three full-length poetry collections with Glass Lyre Press: Gravel Ghosts (2016), The Dark’s Humming (2015 Lyrebird Award Winner, 2017), Grief Flowers (2018), four chapbooks, and a children’s book, These Words I Shaped for You (Philomel Books). Her latest book, Before the Fevered Snow, was released in April 2020 with Stillhouse Press. She was awarded the 2016-2017 COG Literary Award, judged by Juan Felipe Herrera, the 2018 Beullah Rose Poetry Prize, and most recently, second place in the Pablo Neruda Prize for Poetry. She is an Editor at Pirene’s Fountain and The Comstock Review. You can find her work at  meganmerchant.wix.com/poet.