above you while you cry. He’s fingering
your hair, a Patrick Bateman stare. He likes
to make you pray, your paradox for kings
displayed when pique becomes a plead. Your light
proliferates & then recedes, a girl
evanescing into stars, galaxy
that glitters bleak memoirs — a sweaty swirl
in callous hands without complaints, any
demands, pale offerings in fingernails,
uncovering a cruel calligraphy,
his signature of harrowing details
atop a freckled parchment no one grieves.
Epiphany, gurney, retreating eyes
that god looked like some ordinary guy.
– Kristin Garth
Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked magazines like Five: 2: One, Glass, Anti-Heroin Chic, Occulum, Luna Luna, Yes, Former Cactus and many more. Her chapbook Pink Plastic House is available from Maverick Duck Press, and she has two forthcoming: Pensacola Girls (Bone & Ink Press, Sept 2018) and Shakespeare for Sociopaths (The Hedgehog Poetry Press Jan 2019). She also has a full length upcoming Candy Cigarette from the same press in April 2019. Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie), her weekly poetry column (spidermirror.com/the-sonnetarium) and her website (kristingarth.wordpress.com).