Carolyn Srygley-Moore

'Untitled-September'

Why bother
doll eyes haunt
rolling back
into the mound of flesh:
pink, pink
in the attic
rocking horse shawls
glint like water
in moonlight
the trespasser

arrives: you cannot be happy
he says his hands filled with scalps
or no, yes you can,
but only without convention.

 

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Waking
To a window electric
A tea kettle
Humming
Collector of blue
Rain
Thunder
Spackling the song
Grandmother
On long front porch

Stockings
Rolled to her ankles
The heat cracks
First psychosis
Black shoes
Pronged as anchors
Window
Filled first rain

 

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Childhood
Is fragile
As a plane's skeleton
Pushed off the dancers edge
See shall it fly
 

---

 

In fits and starts
We love
Oily engines
Noisome
Reverse is no option
Though we see
The unforgettable
In the rear view
Mirror
Flashing
Headlights

  

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I will forget
This
In a Warhol minute

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Carolyn Srygley-Moore is the author of two digital books of poetry, and three paper books, two of which are due to be published this year. She is a graduate of the Johns Hopkins University's Writing Seminars where she won awards for her poetry, and is published in numerous international ventures, including Up the Staircase and an anthology regarding the Haitian tragedy. Carolyn lives in upstate New York with her husband and daughter.