Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. She is a Best of the Net 2020 finalist. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of 20 books of poetry including Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), and Girlarium (Fahmidan Journal). 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
Wish I Had Known You
When I Was Able to
and not too altered by grief to get through
the first suicide, ten minutes I barely
abide, try because I attempt to do
anything you suggest. Though it takes me
a year to view the rest. By then you and I
don’t even speak. We are friends when you were
weak, Speck’s prison pet who cannot fly,
nurtured by hands who allow another
to die — in your case metaphorically.
Eventually, same with me. How many live
to know you as a ghost? When I’m asleep,
you come nigh, hug me like Ed Kemper did
the FBI agent who treated him like a friend.
Everyone’s disposable in the end.