​​​where God crafts bodies,

            I was made,

and am still, every
instantiation a choice 

            from infancy upwards. Adult selves

still get dreamed into being, their shifts
in size and wrinkle. When time to make

my body at thirty, God decides 

to make me a vulnerability, a longing, a lie 
expired. I know I am made to be

            pressed here against my car,

on an empty street, with your hands on my chest.
To want to stay. Made new so I might step

            out of my character, or as it were, further in. 
Megan McDermott is a poet and Episcopal priest living in Massachusetts. In 2018, she graduated from the Yale Institute of Sacred Music, an interdisciplinary program dedicated to religion and the arts. Her first full-length collection, Jesus Merch: A Catalog in Poems, was published in 2023 with Fernwood Press. She is also the author of two chapbooks, Woman as Communion (Game Over Books) and Prayer Book for Contemporary Dating (Ethel Zine and Micro-Press). Her poems have been published in a variety of journals, including U.S. Catholic, UCity Review, Moist Poetry Journal, Night Heron Barks, and more.