Megan Falley


Megan Falley [she/her] is a queer femme writer who has been living as a full-time touring spoken word poet, author, and teaching artist since her first of three full-length poetry collection was published in 2012. Her most recent collection, “Drive Here and Devastate Me” [Write Bloody Publishing, 2018] was heralded by Autostraddle as “a love letter to the queer community.” In 2019 Falley co-wrote “How Poetry Can Change Your Heart” with her partner, poet Andrea Gibson, as part of Chronicle Book’s acclaimed how-to series. Her chapbook, “Bad Girls, Honey [Poems About Lana Del Rey]" was the winner of the 2015 Tired Hearts Chapbook Prize. Though Falley cut her teeth as a competitive slam poet and is both a National Poetry Slam and Women of the World Poetry Slam Finalist, she recently began kicking free of the confines of stanza and running wild in the meadows of prose. Since transitioning to memoir, Falley was selected as the first place winner  for the So To Speak Creative Nonfiction Prize [2022], the first place winner for the Tom Howard/John H Reid essay prize [2021], and the runner-up for Phoebe Journal's 50th Anniversary Prize in nonfiction [2021]. Her essays have been shortlisted for The Disquiet International Prize [2021] and the Malahat Review Open Season Awards [2022]. Throughout the pandemic, Falley has taught over seven hundred students online in her virtual workshop, “Poems That Don’t Suck.” She lives in Colorado with the loves of her life [her partner, and three tiny rescue dogs.] She’s rooting for you. Source

Said the Gun to the Woman On Her Way to Planned Parenthood

What pisses me off is that you are the one

they call murderer. Treat me like a thing

to protect, and you get to be the monster. 

Like it was not me who shot

up the club and gave new meaning

to a last dance. Not me who sat back

in my hotel room and turned the music festival

into one long scream. Not me who interrupted

a classroom of children learning ABC’s

and punctuation taught them

how I. End. 

A sentence. 

They say you think

you can play God, but in this country, I am God. 

They’ll argue that I’m innocent, 

closets of suits will pledge allegiance, write clean, 

crisp amendments. While you do nothing

but choose to save your life and you get riots

outside the clinic, a bomb in the belly 

of the dumpster? Tell me, what have you been 

aiming for? Joy? Freedom? A body

that is yours? Let’s be clear:

I’m the only one of us

who is not pro-life





Literary Movements:


Anthology Years:



Persona Poems



Literary Devices:


an expression designed to call something to mind without mentioning it explicitly; an indirect or passing reference


a literary device that is used in narratives to omit some parts of a sentence or event, which gives the reader a chance to fill the gaps while acting or reading it out.

Rhetorical Question

a question asked for effect, not necessarily to be answered