Alicia Rebecca Myers

24 Weeks

Calving: to detach or give birth.
So as to be both drift and manifold.
The splinter inside the whorl.
I pinch-test my nipples to see if they lift
away from the breast. Success! I do this
while breaking coverage of the missing plane insists
no wreckage. Imagine standing on a mountain
and trying to spot a suitcase on the ground below.
Then imagine doing it in complete darkness.
Then imagine doing it with another’s eyes
fused inside you. Not even recognizing
your own body. I open my mouth to the fluted stem
of a crepe myrtle. More in bloom because
it was cut back. Because it was cut. My friend
is likewise hopeful in the pare of divorce.
We’re told to detach makes birth manageable.



33/34 Weeks
​I learn light behaves dually as wave and particle.
This two-in-one shampoo is two-for-one.
For your best interest.
In your best fortress.
At Folly Beach, my shadow shows in every frame.
Wasps bump dumbly between haint blue ceiling and sky.
Weight gain makes me question aviation.
I’m unsure of what’s to come.
I bury my fingers in the hotel’s ice bin, count backwards.
Pain tolerance isn’t the same as pain threshold.
The Gullah women bundle their sweetgrass.
Coiling their spoons in intricate circles.
I could both find and abandon you in a basket.
One foot in, one foot out.



39 Weeks
A comedian commits suicide.
A black unarmed teenager is gunned down.
I ready for the bloody show. Inside
our new house the cats sniff corners, ghost town
remnants of others. There’s only before
and after. I uncover Queen Anne’s lace
in the back of a Cheveret drawer,
bunched and curled, each dried floret like a face
repeating gestures, or a wicket door.
In a few days the delivery gown
I ordered from Pretty Pushers will grace
my body. Your misshapen head will crown
from the hidden world to the world laid bare,
hands splayed in surrender, saying: I’m here.

Alicia Rebecca Myers is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared most recently in or is forthcoming from The RumpusGulf Coast, jubilat, The Carolina Quarterly, The Fairy Tale Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology: Georgia and Best New Poets 2015. In February of 2014, she was awarded a residency at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center in Nebraska City. Her chapbook, My Seaborgium, will be released from Brain Mill Press in 2016. She welcomed a son last August and teaches at Wells CollegeYou can find her online at