Swallow

We are swallowed where the forest begins.
Fingers entwine with a fatuous friend
to skip to some belly, scurry within
an avian rib cage to play pretend.
Playmate awaits us outfitted as man
swallowed before in some faraway land —
top hatted aristocrats cool cyan
irises, guile. We will misunderstand
who he is for a mile. What mouths open
then, only to scream, will swallow
a vapor, his handkerchief dream that ends
in a manor we are too common to know.
Through bleary eyed blinks, we view his chateau,
before teacups appear, and we swallow.
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 seventeen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Crow Carriage (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), The Meadow (APEP Publications) and Golden Ticket from Roaring Junior Press. 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