swifts  &  s l o w s · a quarterly of crisscrossings

letting the cold seep bone deep
Megan Cartwright

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Spider Dreams

Arachnid dreams must unravel as spun silk,
spindlelegs spooling tapestries of
dream-state landscapes and woven panoramas to be read like braille.
Dust dilutes memory, distils it to pastels,
mere whispers of once violent vibrance.

Urban legend would have humans gorge, ogre-like as we slumber,
ingesting spiderlings with our every inhalation.
Cocooned in night, does the inverse apply?
In sleep, I tread spinneret-thread tightropes,
then slip through cracks in my subconscious
to dissolve in the belly of the beast.

Domesticated

Murmuration: intricate patterns woven en masse
flocked formation of instinct, a
collective consciousness designed to stave off predators
cleverly disguised as a ballet.

I cannot dance, only plane rough edges, preening,
shedding feathers across the landing.
Parasite infestation.
Skin crawling the night of the meteor shower.

I dreamed I lay face up on the unvarnished deck
letting the cold seep bone deep.

Secret Wives Business

A platinum band glints on my severed finger,
winks like a silver drill-bit giving me the nod
to push the snapped shaft down your throat,
a flaccid earthworm burrowing blind
in vocal folds that prompts upheaval,
retrieval from the deepest,
darkest depths of vitriol.

The bed is unmade. I lie at the edge of depravity
bask in blood and shards of bone,
watching my exhalations shape toothless crones,
the wardens of wombs who paint patterns,
shape the profile of poppets to hold close
as I feign anodyne sleep,
replete with ancient knowledge.

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Megan Cartwright is an Australian writer and college teacher who attempts to make sense of the nonsensical via poetry. Her work has appeared in October Hill Magazine, Authora Australis, Blue Bottle Journal and oddball magazine. She also has work appearing in Quadrant Magazine in early 2023.