Kirsten Meehan

Karen Carpenter 

If anorexia has classically been defined as a young woman's struggle for control, then Karen was a prime candidate, for the two things she valued most in the world—her voice and her mother's love—were exclusively the property of her brother Richard. 
—Rob Hoerburger, 1996

Not a victim of vocalist’s rhythm— 
you began with your drum kit
tight over legs like a lap bar,
the kind you cling to 
on the state fair’s roller coaster
right before the drop. 

The drop was a microphone.
Your brother behind you,
spotlight on your face, 
a million people looking. 
Every eye took something 

and a drummer counts things— 
counts the beats, counts the eyes, 
counts the calories, counts the pounds. 

I wonder if, when your marriage 
became littered with sterile silences, 
you imagined taking up your drumsticks
and pounding a flutter of life 
into existence inside your womb, 
then conjuring a strong, abiding rhythm 
back into your ipecac-eroded heart. 

At your death, they called you
dulcet-voiced.
The most lovely contralto
of a generation.

Packed away and unmentioned, 
your drum kit sat. 
Silent like a heartbeat. 
An unkeepable tempo.

Kirsten Meehan was born and raised in Southern New York, growing up in the same house her father grew up in. She received her BFA in creative writing from SUNY Potsdam and then worked in the publishing industry for a time after graduating. Her work has appeared in The Dillydoun Review, Mistake House, Wild Roof Journal, and Hare's Paw Literary Journal. Currently, she is a student at Arcadia University, studying towards an MA in English and an MFA in poetry. She can be found on Twitter @kirstenmwrites.