/megan snyder-camp

Crane Maiden

For a while two futures ran concurrently. Mouth full of corn ear to the sky the stretchy blue sheet to remind her body and when the door wouldn’t latch I’d lean my body away pull sideways the red crown just a patch of raw skin featherless from between her feathers she would tug or the skin near her cuticle or how she’d turn her foot lean all her weight when she fell she’d laugh a thin looping sound one day she made me be the child pushed my arms through the straps of her tiny sequined backpack said go knock on the door tell them they’re your new family

Megan Snyder-Camp is the author of three books of poetry, including Wintering (Tupelo, 2016) and The Gunnywolf (Bear Star, 2016). Megan’s work has also appeared in Ecotone, FIELD, The Southern Review, The Sewanee Review, and elsewhere.