Meghan Sterling

In the dream, I was writing a poem for a two-headed
bird. I only remember the last line—the self, past and 
current. Current as in the pull of the sea. Current as in 
the electric truth of who I have become. How much I 
have changed, wild bird. Even in dreams, I see pieces 
of my past drifting away, broken like the hulls of ships 
dashed on rocks that block the route forward. The only 
way through is through, they said. You will spend much 
of your life alone, they didn’t. How much I have lost, 
strange bird. I am covered in sores, blisters where my 
flesh chafed at change, wounds where I strayed too far 
from the path. How much I have gained. I look in the 
mirror at my beaks, my helixed head. What I know now: 
The past creates a current. It drags you toward yourself. 

Meghan Sterling (she/her/hers) is a queer/bi writer and working mother living in Maine. Her poetry has been published in Tahoma Literary Review, Los Angeles Review, Colorado Review, Rhino Poetry, Hunger Mountain, and other journals. She became Poet Laureate of the city of Gardiner, Maine, in 2025. Read her work at meghansterling.com.