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2 poems
Margaret Saigh

Margaret Saigh is a writer, dancer, and educator. She is the author of the chapbook CROSSED IN THE DARKER LIGHT OF TERROR (dancing girl press 2022), a graduate of the MFA program at the University of Pittsburgh, and the creator of circlet, a virtual poetry workshop. Her poems are forthcoming in Apricity Press, A Velvet Giant, and The Champagne Room, among others.


I was busy walking up the hill


Spotted lantern flies smashed into the pavement


I was on the way to a doctor’s appointment where I eventually learned I have a hyper mobile colon


There’s something baroque about love


Do I think of God? No. I think of my body


as a heavy crystal of salt. I feel guilty


for killing them. I stomped one


and Zadie flinched at the noise


Thirty acorns falling in the woods


The blaring cable news all day

from my neighbor’s apartment. I glimpsed inside once.


A handle of vodka on a cluttered side table


Perhaps I am lonely.


Today I saw a snake slithering across a tree trunk


At first I thought it was the draw string from a sweatshirt


I guess I have this compulsion to see things other than they are



I had a dream a matriarch died and checks were past their expiration


angry that I’d wasted money and no one mourning her


I found a moist towelette in a rain jacket


I’d taken it from JAX in Killington Vermont


where we ate black bean burgers with gusto after hiking the peak


my mom bought me the rain jacket, which is the color of a pool of European butter


girls love tiny things


talcum particulates on linoleum


bath salts


your sugar scrub face


A woman holds an item of shape wear up to the camera


“I ordered a large, no way this will fit.”


There’s a cut. Then she announces


“my tits look gr8”


girls love tiny




It’s an ad but it feels like a friend


I may or may not click on it


I am not busty


I do not always feel particularly womanly


the tip of my pen leaks on the page


at the gynecologist we talk about bagels while the RNP swabs my vagina.


Strings look good! Girls love tiny. Best loved stories?


I got nun


a head scratcher


a rock from the Southwest that made him think of you


creation, dollar bills, a coffee percolator


cum dither take a shit

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