Megan Nichols

poetry

Megan Nichols is the author of the chapbook Animal Unfit (Belle Point Press, 2023). Her poems have appeared in The Threepenny Review, Poetry Daily, Plume, and elsewhere. She was a finalist for Write Bloody’s 2021 Jack McCarthy Book Prize and the 2024 Peseroff Poetry Prize. She was the Honorary Mention for the 2026 Gwenn A. Nusbaum / WWBA Scholarship. She serves as Managing Editor at Variant Literature. She lives in the Arkansas Ozarks.

 

Suspended Belief

Swimming beneath the swinging bridge so much is Ozark green—the water's surface, our necks, my skin beneath your silver. Face to face we bob, our feet softly kicking each other. It’s nothing to untie a string. To let
fabric rise and float. Who could see? Everyone is working but us. We have to make a choice: Move to the riparian zone, do this under dense  cover, wrapped in smartweed, poison ivy. Or brave smooth bank, laid out like a brash snake heating itself over polished stone. I keep treading in possibility and this is why I’m with you: you pull me  by the wrist, through the water, out of options. Vehicles begin to rattle above us, freeing rough chert between the steel cables and rotting beams. I collect the fallen rocks in the concave of my back. Eyes shut, I could be anywhere; we could be anything. They could be diamonds. This could be dancing.

I set out to write a love poem but found myself describing something less straightforward. In editing, beyond the relationship itself, I was also thinking about age—about maturity, and the kinds of situations young people can drift into.