How Many Does It Take To Burn A Teenage Girl? by Kristin Garth

How Many Does It Take To Burn A Teenage Girl?   for Nusrat Rafi   How many does it take to burn a teen- age girl? Bangladesh, sixteen are sentenced to die — as trial unfurls, new villains seen, unsentenced, your tragedy. For instance, the cop who leaked it to TV, victim statement of what…

Two Sonnets from When Penetrating A Planet by Kristin Garth

We Like Wet Planets And We Cannot Lie   a ballad to the earth from the inhabitants of Nantek Ro   We like our planets voluptuous and wet, a population they half forget, used, deprived of actual power — just pets unleashed at happy hour, hotel abused and golden showered, minuscule enough to be overpowered…

Common Wood-Nymph by Kristin Garth

Common Wood-Nymph   Camouflages freckled cheeks, while you, around a slender trunk, would peek. Beige winged. the moth against your youthful face, just two common wood nymphs, inside this sacred space,   unrecognizable as divine. Hide behind a longleaf pine to watch a herd of flower-faced deer first panic, collide, abruptly disappear. No noise is…

Two Flutter Sonnets from Kristin Garth

Ballerina Ghost   Attempt to keep your eyelids closed beside your sister, faux repose, until you feel a pull of limbs, entreating your return to him. Outside again, inside a blink, beneath the full still moon, a haughty pink — how I have lost my mind,, you think. Though it is something else you seek…

Bisque Effigy by Kristin Garth

It was your week to have the head — bisque effigy, right side of the bed where in evenings you shut your eyes, blue as two which you lie beside — human not porcelain seen each place where you have been. Tonight those flutter, close, clinched tight while you await communion, coquettish night, full of…

Two Small Sex Poems from The Meadow by Kristin Garth

small town   it gets around in smaller towns who holds you down, where you’ve been found, how deep they’ve been, the multiple men, strangleholds requisite to cum upon a blacked out beach aquarium you’re baptized in much too young.   sex object   if i am nude you would see the scar, tear drop,…

On The Morning of Jeffrey Epstein’s Death by Kristin Garth

I’m mourning in a coffee shop not some billionaire pedophile but once again myself — how essential this becomes to mental health, the remembering when I was someone else — small enough to be controlled, cajoled — processing 46 years old, Saturdays in coffee shops, chai tea complimentary cake pops, quite often tears I hope…

2 Sonnets by Kristin Garth

    The Woods Have Teeth   Dangled beneath branch bowed, a bottom lip, perceived to be half of a smile, a child believes it for a while.  After arms rip the residents its foliage hides, wild   squalls, some shawled invalid saw (infants humans would claim, rename), remain untamed, same feral pets, a mansion…

A Library Card Is A License of The Mind by Kristin Garth

Her polka-dotted patterned calves gallop prepubescent paths, story time, equine imitations in kitten heels.  Scalloped peep toe cardinal toe reveals define universality, woman you want to be — not property in homemade dress, cardholder in a world of yes.  Type font card stock, signed, squeezed, tiny envelope pressed palm to Hello Kitty purse, gift of…