Atlanta

Sometimes it takes a six-hour drive to meet
another villain to understand why
you became one, too. Girl he used to beat,
consensually, becomes the one you cry
to, discrete, IM introduction: “I know
what it feels like to be his orphan.” Week
commiserating online while you grow
more sure your tenure, little one, is done. Weak
enough to say yes when she suggests you
should take a holiday, Atlanta — there’s
sex clubs. She knows what looks like love — your view
opened door, her pompadour, dark suit,
stare before she zips you in an obscene dress —
feel what remains of his latest princess.


Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker from Pensacola.  Her sonnets have appeared in journals like Glass, Yes, Five: 2: One, Isacoustic* and many more.  She is the author of twelve books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press) and the forthcoming Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press) and The Meadow (Apep Publications, 2020).  Follow her on Twitter:  (@lolaandjolie) and her website http://kristingarth.com

Banner Image “Pink Bouquet” by Robert Frede Kenter. Tweets at @frede_kenter

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