How To Attend The Murder Trial of a Secret Admirer With No Impulse Control Without Really Trying  by Kristin Garth  

Kristin Garth, Punk Noir Magazine

Professor recommends a murder trial.
More hours to observe the court reporting:
most likely days, even a week, his smile
ruddies geriatric cheeks, won’t be boring.

Peruse the paper. Chose a random one.
Boy your age appeals a stabbing which he
attempted to outrun, verdict he hopes undone
by evidence — traumatic brain injury,

no impulse control. Gallery, find a seat.
Defendant turns his head to smile discreet more
than once until his lawyer’s stare burns your cheek.
You have never seen his client before.

Dishwasher, waiter ex later explains,
“wanted to fuck Wednesday Addams,” your nickname.

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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 21 books of poetry including Crow Carriage (Sweet Tooth Story Books) and The Stakes (Really Serious Literature) and the editor of seven anthologies. 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

1 Nancy Drew sonnet by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

The Mystery at Lilac Inn 

an erotic noir after a Nancy Drew Title 

Lie on your side in a lavender inn,

lachrymose, on an island off of 

Michigan.   Lilac crown bobby-pinned

to periwinkle hair, longing for love  

in mauve underwear.  A rose martini,

completely sipped, becomes smudged looking glass, 

magenta lipstick, when the sound of key 

card, stroke of strange fingertips on lace trimmed ass

amidst a June solar eclipse exhibits 

its lilac lady with veiled reverence. Face

to the window, stars draped in toile chintz, 

one cheek aflame on a silk pillowcase,

warm lips on your spine do their best to resolve 

the mystery of you a tongue might solve. 

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

2 Nancy Drewesque noir sonnets by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

The Hidden Staircase 

after Nancy Drew, Number Two, in which 

Nancy Drew investigates in tunnels and

 hidden staircases and I investigate

the hidden staircase to peace of mind

one descends in meditation and

introspection

A hidden staircase wraps about our spines

descending when the obicularis 

occuli buries eyes in flesh confines;

oblivion abducts embryonic minds.  Mist 

obscures succeeding steps.  Mirrored walls

reflect phosphorescent silhouettes which 

we understand are consequent to all

the deliquesce of desiccating witches,

withered of their wherewithal.  We sink

into ovate interiors deprived 

of macaroon exteriors, penny 

loafers, antique broach, cream crocheted knee-high

socks, unrealistic hopes for mankind

left behind investigating peace of mind. 

The Bungalow Mystery 

after Nancy Drew, Number Three, in which 

Nancy Drew investigates a fraud in a bungalow. 

In this sonnet I encounter a fraud in a bungalow. 

He wears tailored suits, says he has meetings.

In his bungalow, you crawl across his sheets 

for beatings towards a silver buckle V,

doubled over leather snaps viscously.  

He asks, after, questions, gives you advice. He 

critiques nude careers while you play nice — ten 

years your senior, respect his mystery

and age.  Swallow what is offered then 

politely disengage once you are untied 

from posts of his living room bed,

pedantic semantics in lieu of lies.  

He is ever careful with what is said

commentary on what you do to pay bills.

Does not mention his trust fund and never will. 

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

The Secret of the Old Clock by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

after Nancy Drew, Number One, in which

Nancy Drew finds a will in an old clock

that gave her a vocation;

I found a will in an old house

that gave me a location.

Not the antique clock but the document 

inside, Nancy Drew must find to be a

bona fide girl detective.  For you, it went —

find papers in a house flooded by a bay,

a deceased stranger hid decades away in 

thirty two hundred square feet with secret 

rooms, architectural conceits, a sin

they went unnoticed before. Subsequent 

to searching, you adore this place more 

until all is saved by a forgotten safe.

Top once drilled open then replaced with poured 

concrete (?!?)  a sledgehammer breaks. A waif 

with a clue becomes a proprietor

of a house of words in woods evermore.

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

One sonnet from Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth

When I See The Newly Discovered Pastel Planet

for TOI 1338b discovered by a 17 year old NASA intern 

Know I’ll soon awake, a tent over my house.  

Bubble of plastic, scientist  run in 

and out of a vacuum-sealed tunnel which spouts

from the open rectangle which had been 

my front door when I fell asleep before 

the fear of radioactive spores led 

doctors in space suits to my second floor —

there the cotton candy hued light imbedded 

unknowingly, in my chest will pulse in 

bubblegum pastels demanding egress. 

Soon subject of a failed experiment,

alien in raspberry toile sundress,

rides a pink bike across your baby blue moon 

toward my opalescent space commune.

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

Pendulum by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

Pendulum 

It swings across the width of an oversized

iMac retina screen.  The flower of life, 

a hexagonal tanzine, he describes,

while it glides through the air like a knife,

how it can carve a third eye out of 

any odd life.  Strife disappears as two 

eyelids descend.  What will open above 

begets a novel vision, virginal hues 

imbued to a world once sinister, strange.  

His pendulum rocks until anatomy 

is romantically rearranged. You change 

in its period to a wide eyed baby

whispered lullabies of a beckoning bay

you ought to discover in darkness today. 

Poor Little Bear by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

Poor Little Bear 

after Midsommar and Poor Little Bear

a print above Dani’s bed by the Swedish

painter John Bauer

Before familicide, Midsommar, death 

kept close at hand as Ativan, you 

repose, lips primrose, exhaling baby’s breath 

below bear, princess a Swedish artist drew.

The beast of death his own eyes peered young 

into, at 36, he picks a boat trip,

abstains from the dangers of the train.  Lungs 

of lake water slay him, his wife and son, flipped 

by excessive weight of freight, 1918. 

Did you know this when you looked at them?

The kiss of death proffered by a tiny queen 

upon the muzzle of a death machine seems

as much nightmare as a fairytale —

as is a life in which none of us prevails.

How To Be A Gothic Babydoll In A Beige World by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

How To Be A Gothic Babydoll In A Beige World 

In your era of Blockbuster service 

the uniform consists of khaki, an Oxford 

shirt, baby blue crisp you only purchase 

after consulting your  mental drawing board —-

how to be gothic babydoll in this beige 

world.  Buy bright tights or black lace, short skirts in

ecru.  Braid dark hair everyday to assuage 

the rebel in you, Mormon girl who’s been 

forced both into sex and sexless costumes.  

No one will dictate the height of your shoes

as you peruse the new release wall.  Assume

you are wise, in platforms, standing tall.  Use 

you for recommendations, girl who stands out. 

It feels important to show what you’re about.

Witchery by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and 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

Witchery 

Through her wind warped windows, the withering 

witch will wave you a welcome, young weeping wench 

who wanders, wuthering woods, where winged

creatures which waver will wilt like a wish,

without the wisdom of which way is which. 

Weariness weds the wrinkled and weak.

Wallow a week, her window seat, fed wolffish 

with wasabi —you are unwilling to wreak 

the wrath of an empath wroth over waste.

Wednesday she wraps about your wee throat,

pendant, it’s whispered, is antidote.  Weight 

intimates the wonders, weathered hands wrote-

note wrinkled, handwringing, wobbling home.

Will it protect you when you are alone? 

Author’s Note:

This sonnet is from a new collection I’m working on

about abuse, hypnosis and navigating the subconscious

mind.  It’s called Empty Pendant.

Little Trees by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated 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

Little Trees

It’s not enough that I live in the woods. 

I need little trees inside — living rooms,

behind a chest wall, arbor of girlhood 

I hide.  My arteries bear fair unbloomed 

leaves irrigated with tears held within;

its silvered bark you mistake in the dark 

for something other than weathered skin.  

All you see is the muck covered roots, stark 

signs of the grove interminably green.

I hid it young from everyone 

because of the desecration it’s seen,

the savagery and spoils of the hunt.

Last blade of an ax bade me underground.

These little trees remind I am still around.