Megan Alpert’s collection The Animal at Your Side won the Airlie Prize and is forthcoming in 2020. She was also the recipient of an Orlando Poetry Prize and a finalist for the National Poetry Series. Her work has appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Storyscape, Sixth Finch, Harvard Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and many others. As a journalist, she has reported for The Atlantic, Foreign Policy, The Guardian, and Smithsonian.



Also by Megan Alpert: Two Poems In Retrograde Holly, 1962

Poets Resist
Edited by Logan February
July 10, 2019

Megan Alpert

After, Before

— November 2016-January 2017 A child reads a book and learns the words boxcar barbed wire Later in a video sees the charred remains. In her mind she practices the boxcar the fence: to run be shot or stay be raped and gassed To result forever half so even her daughters in the safety of North America embed in a house that grows to them like skin * But why guilt? Amira asked the day we walked up Georgia Avenue You weren’t even there Listen she said: After partition her great aunt walked to Pakistan holding a sack of keys that each matched a door in the house she’d never return to — they’d pull Muslims off buses set houses alight One uncle still cries when they mention his lost sister * It was a year before the election (but we didn’t think of it as before anything) Now the future we’re arriving in feels rehearsed * Before I worked at a magazine where I chose the photos: I scanned through boys turned to dusty statues in bombed-out hospitals men crying as they carry little bodies The search terms: Syria hospital Drone Nazi gold brought me a soldier holding a crate of wedding rings * How do you know when the after begins? An armed march against Jews in Montana militias at the border burned-out mosques, and Amira afraid of a neon cross in the bed of a pickup near her building There should be a name for this: today’s newscast as prologue Even as I watch it feels like years ago
Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.