A nod to nap below a tree — eyelid
an elephant descends, still sees a fawn
so wobbly as she flees. Demon forbids
a chase, indica knees. Tendrils blonde,
he contemplates. Their wave, rebellion,
he close-eyed calculates: Forest frolic
after class, to swath of leaves, vermillion,
bedspread in grass. She’s smoked-out, chronic,
childlike, asleep. His push inside her dreams
so deep. She wakes to nails between her thighs,
a bolt of light in red-rimmed eyes. Her screams,
that seem internalized, deemed dreamed demise.
This game requires patience. The best games do.
The dreams of hunters demons will pursue.

Girl In A Cage

The ransom written in her hand — small scrawl,
a smear of tears, demands, some film inside,
ten frames disgrace: caged babydoll who crawls,
a dirty face. Delivery by PI,
pinstripes, trench coat, half past midnight, he knocks,
manila envelope. Her drowsy dad,
who seethes in silk, unlocks a safe well-stocked,
“Brutes won’t be bilked.” Briefcase he pads
half million bucks. “Pier Park, daybreak,” the note
instructs. “Off Dock 1, dump then don’t look back.”
Beneath PI retrieves what fortune floats,
joins caged cohort aboard his boat. “Unpack
it. Pay me. Set me free.” His speech soft, sage:
“Don’t see any partner — girl in a cage.”




Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker.  Her sonnets have stalked magazines like Occulum, Luna Luna, Anti-Heroin Chic, Mojave HeartInfernal Ink, TERSE. Journal, Visitant Lit, Moonchild Magazine and many more.  Her chapbook Pink Plastic House is available from Maverick Duck Press and her second, Shakespeare for Sociopaths, is forthcoming from Hedgehog Poetry in January of 2019.  Follow her sonnets, socks and secrets on Twitter:  @lolaandjolie