At night, Father pacing around the barn beneath the moon,
pitcher of gin in left hand; we couldn’t afford glasses.
Visitors were never prepared for how the calves
screamed in their stalls at dawn,
bloodcalls hanging in the air like sails
til we let them roam the pasture.
Inside my bedroom, a drawer
full of doorknobs.
After the “accident” Mother took them away
to the landfill; there didn’t need to be more reminders
of how I was unlocked.
Father just said the usual things, if he ever got his hands on you
he would sink you or leave you with a broken jaw,
left it at that, drinking midnight til sunrise
while all the animals moaned.
- Meggie Royer 2015
Meggie Royer is a writer and photographer from the Midwest who is currently majoring in Psychology at Macalester College. Her poems have previously appeared in Words Dance Magazine, The Harpoon Review, Melancholy Hyperbole, and more. She has won national medals for her poetry and a writing portfolio in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, and was the Macalester Honorable Mention recipient of the 2015 Academy of American Poets Student Poetry Prize