MEGAN WARING

Presents from God

After Marie Howe


I didn’t know you were finding them all over
the house, in the cup where the toothbrushes
live, in the ice tray, behind the tea. Cigarettes, the exact
brand I smoked in college, sometimes after. Drunken
vices, hungover prayers. You don’t say anything
to me but pile them on my side of the bed, wanting
me to know that you know. But I don’t. Think
it is God tempting me, missing the times
I would let the nicotine wash over my brain and talk
to Him. Or, think it is God reminding me to feel
shame. Remember each frozen finger, each whiskey
night, each time I let someone else down. It was a different
time, I think. But now, I roll them between my fingers, slip
one between my lips. Stare at myself in the mirror, unlit
tip, not looking at all like the badass I once thought I was
but like a drowning woman. You find more in the dish rack:
soggy, unusable. In the sock drawer, you hate to admit
that you don’t mind the soft scent. The pile grows
but neither of us bring it up. Each night I lie
down, clearing space for my body like a snow angel.

Megan Waring is a poet, playwright and fiber artist who currently resides in Boston.  Waring holds a BA in Creative Writing from Virginia Tech and is currently earning her MFA in poetry from University of Massachusetts Boston.  Waring is the honored recipient of Virginia Tech’s Literary Award in 2010 and her work has been published or is forthcoming in Salamander, Belle Ombre, Nailed, Mortar, The Legendary, and Pulp Literature, among others. Waring’s co-written play, Archer and the Yeti, was produced by Greene Room Productions in October 2019.