Morgan Hamill


First: that I hate a beautiful turn
of phrase, those elegances

that offer no purchase. When I love,
I kiss. Where you go, I confess

I will follow.
Second: that I believe; although

Third: that sometimes I fear my belief
in choice is only a convenient fantasy.

Fourth: in the dentist’s chair, that I was glad
you could not see me

with a long syringe
buried in my jaw.

Fifth: that I, without you, I
had such a good week, and so

modest, long strips of light
draped over blonde butcher-block wood,

stainless steel press and gallon glass
jars gleaming.

Sixth: that I did not hold
your hand in urgent care, and after that,

Seventh: that it is a shock, to discover
that we might choose

to part ways
after all.

Morgan Hamill is a disabled poet and a graduate student in English Literature at Penn State, where she has been awarded a McCourtney Family Distinguished Graduate Fellowship. In 2019, she was a poetry semi-finalist in Nimrod's Francine Ringold Awards for Emerging Writers. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Copper Nickel, and The Southern Review.