Everyone Terrible Once Was A Child
Born as fog evaporated to sun
three minutes after an unluckier
one — brother lifted into shadow, dun,
window, obscured maiden oaks, Douglas firs.
Someday two doppelgängers run. Breathless
the eldest, never more alive, infant
no one expected to thrive is relentless
years hence, escorted by crows, descendent
a flock recognizes, follows — not you
despite blooming from the very same womb.
Until, feathered darkness one day, he flew
into a fog. Join flock of grief, his tomb,
a savage ring would exhume, all claw marble wild.
Everyone terrible once was a child.
Bio: Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of fifteen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House, Shut Your Eyes, Succubi (Maverick Duck Press), Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press) and The Meadow (APEP Publications). She is the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie) and her website kristingarth.com