Pliable arms you pose us for prayer,
high collared dress, veil pinned to hair, lifelike
bend synthetic submissive knees, back blares
a voice box of holes: “yes, sir” and “please.” Night
widens our thighs, shortens our memories
of the paradoxical uses of
our plasticity. Poised before ASB
plastic pelvis, pretense of cock, true love
with Ken dolls has rituals of which we
must never talk. Anoint our flexible
joints with pearls, purchased accessory seed
because sex, religion are extort-able
needs to heed or ignore judiciously.
We were procured for our plasticity.
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