The Drowning Season
After the flood, the stuffed animals smell.
Peter Rabbit fell from bed as you fled.
8 am, when the bay, waves, fishes, shells
well into lawn, bedroom past your bedspread
into the den when you run out the door
in water deeper than ever before, winds
because the hurricane has come ashore
and will remain the afternoon, lives in
mementos that seep through your hands,
a painting gifted by a dead man whose
disintegration is more than you can
stand. Pink plastic house and Barbies suffused
with torrents who leave you layered in mud.
You drown for a season after the flood.
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