Poetry, photography, collage—in The Mix, Meggie Royer ’17 combines works of different media to make art that’s greater than the sum of its parts.
You are one-third ghost, two-thirds ghost town haunted by the lovers you left behind.
Somehow four-fifths spite and cherry whiskey, one-fifth thunderclaps.
You are an anthem stitched together with all the favorite parts of songs
that your first love couldn’t stop singing in the shower.
You are a séance with an Ouija board that spells out the middle name
no one can pronounce, with a chest full of holes like a plaster wall
that’s been punched through in anger too many times to count.
No one else can figure out what you’ve hidden in each one
because you keep every secret wrapped with double-sided tape.
You are six-eighths lonely and lost, two-eighths misunderstood
by everyone else including yourself.
Dozens of strangers have cried on your shoulder, have stained their tears
into the fabric of your frayed heart with edges too rough to soften,
and out of everything you are made of,
that first kiss in the rain is the only part you’ll ever want to salvage.
By Meggie Royer ’17