/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.