![\"\"](\"http:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1188\/2025\/11\/After-e1764544554642-241x300.jpeg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Meg Taylor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I used to think before and after<\/span> But every hinge is not a loss.<\/span> Still, subtraction teaches best.<\/span> A stubbed toe can split a day,<\/span> Maybe life is nothing<\/span> <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Meg Taylor<\/b> is a Midwestern poet whose work explores resilience, loss, and transformation through sharply drawn imagery and emotional clarity. Her poetry has appeared in <\/span>Wingless Dreamer<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>The Write Launch<\/span><\/i>, and <\/span>WILDsound Writing Festival<\/span><\/i>. When not writing, she balances the demands of daily work with a drive to excavate what\u2019s real on the page.<\/span><\/p>\n Nellianne Bateman<\/b> is obsessed with the color purple. She is a writer, painter, and educator. She’s making the world a better place with a feminist lens and words and images. She is an MFA candidate in Art Writing at The New School.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Back to issue<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Arithmetic of After Meg Taylor I used to think before and after belonged to tragedy, the slammed door, the call at midnight, the name carved into stone. But Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7349,"featured_media":0,"parent":5625,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5671"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7349"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5671"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5671\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6053,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5671\/revisions\/6053"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5625"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5671"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/span>belonged to tragedy,<\/span>
\n<\/span>the slammed door,<\/span>
\n<\/span>the call at midnight,<\/span>
\n<\/span>the name carved into stone.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>Some open toward arrival.<\/span>
\n<\/span>There was before you<\/span>
\n<\/span>and after you,<\/span>
\n<\/span>the air rewired by laughter,<\/span>
\n<\/span>a room suddenly fluent<\/span>
\n<\/span>in warmth.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>The job that vanished,<\/span>
\n<\/span>the body reshaped,<\/span>
\n<\/span>the friend I stopped chasing<\/span>
\n<\/span>through her storm,<\/span>
\n<\/span>all of it proof that after<\/span>
\n<\/span>is never just one thing.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>so can a birth,<\/span>
\n<\/span>so can silence finally broken.<\/span>
\n<\/span>We want to measure by weight,<\/span>
\n<\/span>but pain is not math.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Happiness is not math.<\/span>
\n<\/span>Each fracture redraws us,<\/span>
\n<\/span>whether it\u2019s a crack<\/span>
\n<\/span>or a canyon.<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span>but these thresholds,<\/span>
\n<\/span>each one insisting:<\/span>
\n<\/span>you cannot go back.<\/span>
\n<\/span>And maybe the work<\/span>
\n<\/span>is not mourning the before,<\/span>
\n<\/span>but learning to name the after<\/span>
\n<\/span>without apology,<\/span>
\n<\/span>to say: this is who I am now,<\/span>
\n<\/span>and it is enough.<\/span><\/p>\n