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