Meg Johnson is the author of the full length poetry collection Inappropriate Sleepover (The National Poetry Review Press, 2014), which was recently a NewPages Editor's Pick. Her poems have appeared in Hobart, Nashville Review, The Puritan, Sugar House Review, Verse Daily, and others. Meg started dancing at a young age and worked professionally in the performing arts for many years. She is the editor of Dressing Room Poetry Journal and recently received her MFA in creative writing from the NEOMFA Program. Meg is currently a lecturer at Iowa State University.
A female deer is generally alone through
most of the year.
Take a needle and thread through
dough, some soil, a body of water.
It’s the horror of discovering who/what
you are really in love with. Performer
= Introvert = Peril / I pray
for health, but fantasize about amnesia.
I tell acquaintances, dates
anytime from the other side
of the door.
For illness, not ambition
though it's hard to remember
as the days pass you were actually
prescribed this, the heat generating
off your thighs, your knuckles red
from hitting a punching bag.
You want to write a gentle ode:
The strangers who hit on me when
I had Bell's Palsy will always
have a special place in my heart...
But you can't concentrate long
enough to finish it.
You imagine yourself throwing
a chair when someone at work
says there'll be extra meetings this year.
What about your own work? The time
you must spend with a medical team
examining your sore eyes?
You look at your reemerging polished
teeth in the mirror, your returning smile,
the jewels of a menace.