Megan Cartwright

Frankenstein Stuff

Subject line: Frankenstein stuff

Marking: UNOFFICIAL

 

I fear the missive is something perverse,

an amputated limb, or worse –

‘Beautiful! – Great God!’

An overgrown email trail,

details of ambition so grotesque

it must be put to rest.

 

Frankenstein stuff –

remonstration from an Executive

with a god-complex, and a penchant for

two-hundred-year-old metaphors?

More likely a meme sent, well-meant,

by bolt-necked Boris from Sales.

 

It could be the abomination –

hulking hallucination of opiate fevers

reaching out in 8-foot font, an

UNOFFICIAL invitation

to turn myself inside out,

fleshy bag of neuroses, stitched–together–with–doubt,

a mind made monstrous with what-ifs.

Woman’s-Woman

I’ve been told I’m not a “woman’s-woman.”

For what it’s worth, it could be true.

Women change shape in the space

between flashes/of/strobe/lights.

                                                                                  

Bathroom girls are the best friends

you never had in high school.

They fix your hair; let you cry over that guy.

They kiss you on the lips right before last drinks.

 

Bathroom girls are not women’s-women.

When they shed their clothes and tumble

into bed, all hair and legs,

their lights go out, not a flicker of doubt.


Megan Cartwright is a poet and college Literature teacher who resides in Australia. Her writing has recently featured in Swim Meet Lit Mag and Passengers Journal.

Previous
Previous

Paige Eaton

Next
Next

Bruce McRae