Sheena Carroll: 3 Poems
A NOVELTY, ON HER RETIREMENT
Electric skin, Cotard delusion, whatever.
I’m ready to move on.
This has been traumatic enough
without having to play actor,
without having to build myself up like
a real Christmas tree: dated spectacle,
unsustainable spectacle.
Only survived because I am pagan
and I worship the dirt that I should
be buried in right now—
What, with my hands as cold as they are.
Neurotic nodding and thanks and
how many thanks have I said to the same people?
Are they counting? Are they relieved when I stop?
I know I am.
I also worship the Moon and the tides she controls.
As such, I cannot be washed away,
only whisked. Find an island only accessible
via another island,
Cemetaria traumatica.
Still, I become a Jenny Haniver:
dehydrated, dried, displayed.
UPON HEARING ABOUT THE GHOST SHIP FIRE
I remember telling a friend at an open mic
that a similar tragedy is bound to happen
in Pittsburgh within the next five to ten years.
At the time of this writing, it hasn’t.
But I can no longer afford my rent,
and that friend and that open mic
are no longer around.
THERE IS A PERPETUAL LOADING SCREEN OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW
Unsure if simulation will display tops of snow-capped
skyscrapers or a line of rush hour traffic, or maybe bare trees.
Used to hate living in the middle of nowhere,
driving everywhere to get somewhere.
But now I crave nothing more
then the view of a premature night sky
cropped by blinding hills and evergreens,
to hear nothing but my own thoughts,
battering ram wind, and the discordant lo-fi
playing on the laptop downstairs, a reminder that
nothing remains, everything changes.
System overloads occasional drop out from society,
take time to recharge, energy source unknown,
system timed out, must reset, must rest.
Sheena Carroll is a Pittsburgh-based writer who enjoys watching mecha and taking naps. Her first chapbook, MISS MACROSS VS. BATMAN, was published by Dark Particle/CWP Collective Press in 2018. You can find her on Twitter @missmacross.