Laureen

by Meggie Royer 

We watch as a gull takes a fish into its mouth,
fog shifting to make room for its iridescence.
In the news, a true crime story
about a woman being taken, every lightbulb
in the hallway unscrewed before her absence.
The scales fall like arcs of sky. The reporter
wants to know why someone would shutter
the glow, would create this long column
of darkness. A perfect expanse. Somewhere,
my father is clearing leaves from the driveway.
The acorns have not yet dropped.
The neighbors have not yet arrived to help.
On the beach, the other gulls follow suit,
water lifted from itself like a dream.
We imagine the hallway; the first person
who opened their door—
consuming, just for a little while,
that brief respite from the light. 

*Laureen Rahn disappeared in New Hampshire at the age of 14 in 1980.
She has never been found.

Meggie Royer (she/her) is a Midwestern writer and the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Persephone’s Daughters, a journal for abuse survivors. She has won numerous awards and has been nominated several times for the Pushcart Prize. Her work has been published in The San Antonio Review, The Rumpus, The Minnesota Review, and other notable publications. She thinks there is nothing better in this world than a finished poem. Her work can be found at https://meggieroyer.com/.