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.
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.
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