Megan Coxe has just returned from a sabbatical year in Almería, Spain as an assistant English teacher, to be suddenly back in her native state (some may say independent republic) of Texas. Now she splits her time pursuing an MA in Hispanic Literature at the University of Texas, coping with the unexpected return to her birthplace, and plotting her next international escape. Her work is forthcoming in Yes, Poetry and Leaf Garden Press .

Alone again (August 20, 2011. Issue 30.)

Second time?
Oh, probably more than that, dear
Well, any how I'm here again.

Again in that place of infinite joy
and impenetrable grief.
The kind that makes you do stupid things
Like staying up 'til dawn,
meeting strangers who seem your best friends
wondering if this is how it must feel

Second time?
Ok, maybe third
I don't really know anymore.

Alone again in that room,
in that room that used to seem
bloated with life, our life
now teeming with hollow echoes,
and rectangular bleached spots on the walls where your discount posters hung.

Don't cry, hush, don't cry
For god's sake Don't Be A Woman

At least I'm now less alone
or less empty
pouring memories and wizened teachings into this vessel, which I carry again myself.
Wondering how to sink my entire body into this polyester blanket.
We no longer accept that card here
Sincerest apologies.

Staring at your seat. Cold from absence, stiff from inactivity,
my body. Yearns.

I no longer see the faces smiling
just hear their skin next to mine
distantly, longingly.
Alone again, singing songs which exist
only in my imagination
I cannot harmonize in this silent,
I spin with eyes shut,
hair like a straw wheel turning about the axis of my head.

No quilt for me. No
Just this notebook and the snakes,
slithering at my feet,
scaly,
over my bare toes.