Liz McGehee (she/her) is a full-time editor and poet based in New Orleans. She is the Chapbooks Editor at Gasher Press, a nonprofit literary publisher committed to serving the literary community in publishing, editing, and scholarship. A survivor of Hurricanes Katrina and Ida, her creative work often explores themes of ecodisaster and the New Orleanian and Cajun diaspora, appearing in literary journals such as New Delta Review, Cloud Rodeo, The Volta, The Thought Erotic, Pouch Magazine, and elsewhere. Additionally, she is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee and holds an MFA from the University of Colorado Boulder. You can find more of her at lizmcgehee.com.
The Discovery Channel Marathons ‘Coyote Ugly’
When the city is evacuated, the coyotes move in to eat the flesh of the dead. Mirabilia in the floorboards. Seaweed on the ceiling fan. Fridge rot ridge underfoot. I am returned to earth as a chorus of landlocked howls. As wet drywall blossoming black. There wasn’t enough time to grab anything when we fled. To sojourn in the land of the missing. Try not to look at the abandoned 6 Flags on the way to Mississippi. Try not to hear the constant pop of nearby gunshots. Try not to take part in the new blue FEMA tarp city that has made this place unrecognizable. Instead, I give you my scattergod & isthmus. My megafauna & withershins. God is good at drowning the evidence. Is long gone for the swim of our lives.