Preservation by Meghan Elizabeth Kelley
It’s important to collect something,
my grandmother says,
as she rinses the top of the tomato can
from her pantry prepped for the apocalypse.
My grandmother says
she doesn’t believe in the unassembled
from her pantry prepped for the apocalypse,
she’s gripped by dangers the unready brings.
She doesn’t believe in the unassembled.
She’s dead now, but she’s watching, waiting,
gripped by dangers the unready brings
when I’m captivated by the ungathered.
She’s dead now, but she’s watching, waiting.
She arrives in the folds of my mother’s face.
When I’m captivated by the ungathered,
they scowl over the remains of burned bridges.
She arrives in the folds of my mother’s face.
Will they finally see shelved dreams can soar?
They scowl over the remains of burned bridges
and say: artists can’t amass unending approval.
Will they finally see shelved dreams can soar?
Today, I decide: I won’t disown this poem.
They say: artists can’t amass unending approval,
but I keep words stockpiled for reckoning.
Today, I decide: I won’t disown this poem.
I’m not ready enough for them,
but I keep words stockpiled for reckoning.
It’s important to collect something.
Meghan Elizabeth Kelley is a poet and writer in Jenkintown, PA. Her articles have been featured on No Sidebar, and her poems have appeared in District Lines and For Women Who Roar magazine. She is also a yoga nidra and meditation facilitator, which helps shape her creative process.