
• Creative Writing •
• Original Poetry •


two poems
Anklets, baby
for weight of the body
heartbone and shoulder blade
sees you
as you are. suppling
and being unwilling to supple.
hating
the word, used only
for putting a handle on wild
beings
like sage. laying alone
you are the shape of one line
starred
twice. prickling for it
but quietly, as you were told.
furled
around to get your head
right, ankles thick as simple
birds.
The devil wears your clothes
sometimes it comes down
to a fake moon around
licks of air
and there goes the will to moan
last night I tried to fool
my body
fought for limpness in the least
strange of places a
room
who could blame me it was so
bright and had been
scrubbed
down hard my shoulders began
to seize up like cat’s
fur
bolt eyes set firmly there are
lots of ways to be
loved
and I’m only looking for one
of them always a
devil
you know the shadow dressed
in a black t-shirt says
I won’t
~
Madeleine Kruhly is a graduate of the Masters in Poetry programme at the University of East Anglia. Her poems have appeared in Ambit, THRUSH, and The Stockholm Review of Literature, and her criticisms published online for The Los Angeles Review of Books and The Economist. She currently lives in New York.