are named after the character from The Thorn Birds. Every last one of them. They sit in the front row at mass, crossing and uncrossing their breasts, their legs. The altar boys nervous before the tabernacle.

Meghans bemoan the handsome priest behind their missals. Call him Father What-a-Waste. Call him Daddy. Their moms still call them Meggy. No one calls them Meg.

Meghans put on a show for the parishioners. They know who they are named for.

Meghans are so tired.  

Meghans deny the pancake breakfast. Refuse the Boy Scouts, the Knights of Columbus. Go home to their gray crewnecks. Eat peanut butter rice cakes in the dark of the refrigerator. Their faces, finally alone, hang like full moons on the freezer door.