Megan Wong is a poet and teacher from New Mexico with an MFA in Creative Writing from New Mexico State University. She currently works as a freelance editor in California's East Bay area. She has work published and forthcoming in Bone Bouquet, Puerto del Sol, and other journals.
If I did stand beneath one Zeus-shaped cloud, the puffiness so high up that the distance between my eyes and it was indicative of the distance between my eyes and coming to a consensus on how to talk about marriage neutrally—whatever we decided in that hour between Alamogordo and home is less memorable than the changeless instant in which I could call that cloud a god.
Apology for Apology
Every night I lay me down to the speech I give
my daughter to speak—each word
in ways that slant around a point
I try not to make
in case what I say
is merely phenomenological fact,
yet with enough precision to emboss my own
face on the product.
I must prepare my body
in defense, to rally for or against my daughter,
for myself to become, against her or for
if I’m wrong, then rise again to the peel of white
in the light of empty sheets
and entreat the opening progressive verb
in lieu of to be.