top of page
  • Writer's pictureLammergeier Staff

If Gregor Samsa Was a Girl | Megan Mary Moore

She woke with wings

never-feathered, but iridescent,

translucent and quivering in dawn.

Her hunger was vibrating, vampiric. She craved

blood to drip through each Cheerio’s belly

before sucking them through her spoon.

Her mother dropped her coffee

and screamed at her daughter

hovering in front of the fridge.

Shoo shoo     shoo,

shoo shoo shoo shoo!

back to her room.

Later her brain would buzz with question marks

about the shape of growing up, growing down,

she needed to know

how to tell your own wings that you love them

shimmer-shaking as they percuss against your mother’s skin,

your proboscis digging, swallowing.

Megan Mary Moore is the author of Dwellers (Unsolicited Press, 2019). Her poetry has appeared in Rattle, Drunk Monkeys, and Black Coffee Review. She lives in Cincinnati where she teaches dance and talks to ghosts.

Twitter: @meganmarymoore

Instagram: @meganmarymoore



bottom of page