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Womannotated – The Dirty Truth About Butterflies

November 29th, 2020

The Dirty Truth About Butterflies

It’s easy for a religiously bred

(misled) girl to make an Eden of

a garden, angels of winged soon dead,

repopulating in three weeks. But love’s

amino acids butterflies won’t find

in agapanthus nectar, waterfalls —

Continue reading “Womannotated – The Dirty Truth About Butterflies”

Womannotated – Radiant Heat

November 21st, 2020

Radiant Heat 

This is the time of day sunbeams cross my 

mattress, imprison flesh atop its breadth. 

Each breath, bee balm, bids eyelash butterflies 

vibrate; no body lies in wait bereft 

its pleasures just because it is alone

but moans all illuminations shone through nude 

windows. Your radiant heat upon bones,

Continue reading “Womannotated – Radiant Heat”

Womannotated – Macabre Burlesque

November 14th, 2020

Macabre Burlesque 

I live in a genre the aged read.
Decrepit men tell their mendacities 
before a final tomcatnap beneath 
cracked granite mausoleum roof.  This squeezed 
social register, not quite weatherproof,
trickles on nipples; a drooping sundress
exposes flesh, rose, only ghosts reprove 
or molest, witness this macabre burlesque.

Continue reading “Womannotated – Macabre Burlesque”

Womannotated – Holding Pond

October 7, 2020

Holding Pond


Kristin Garth

Gills desiccating, you glide through his house,

hair towel dried, Oxford shirt, slouched, secured 

with belt made oversized dress — yours doused

in his tank, under duress. Damp, demure

while you saunter down bifurcated stairs,

some guests the servants were unaware, out

his front door then driveway, street. Unprepared —

Continue reading “Womannotated – Holding Pond”

Womannotated – Texting Shakespeare

November 1, 2020

Texting Shakespeare

On the side of a road atop a stump

you seem cinched in by sunshine while you are 

slumped over a cellphone screen, bare goosebumped 

décolleté.  You ignore the people, cars.

You have something to say.  Instrumental 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Texting Shakespeare”

Womannotated – Weeping Trees

September 19th, 2020:

Weeping Trees 

Follow creek through the weeping trees until 

it narrows and you cross with ease.  Keep mum

along the rivulet cascading still

through thicket of thorns  you will not succumb.

Continue reading “Womannotated – Weeping Trees”

Womannotated-Girlarium

Two Girlarium sonnets:

Continue reading “Womannotated-Girlarium”

Womannotated – Death In The Air

August 16th, 2020

(Content warning:  horror, death, suicide, some discussion of Midsommar with what could be considered general, mild spoilers)

Death In The Air

A scent in twilight past breaths of the beast 

who stalks the edges of forests on the 

phalanges of feet, quickening heartbeats 

of little lost girls, panting in pine trees 

near the end of the world.  Pale hirsute ear 

you peer where the needles are bare.  Eyes straight 

ahead, mutter pieces of prayers.  Fear 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Death In The Air”

Womannotated, Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life

Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life

 

When you are raised by fundamentalists,

at slumber parties you resist. Approved-

of-girl, goes to your church, sly fantasist

whom no one hurts, her mom insists

you stay the night — both look sufficiently up-

tight, lacy collars, skirts below the knee.

Continue reading “Womannotated, Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life”

Womannotated, Crow Carriage

 A Crow Carriage

Sonnet Double Feature:

 

Mistress of Malice 

Ten miles upon a tufted seat, elm trees

to village path, discreet, a beast will ride

to seaside town.  One hooded straggler by

him found, too young this hour to be outside

indecent bodice, brown eyes wide.  Fingers Continue reading “Womannotated, Crow Carriage”

Untouchable by Kristin Garth

Untouchable

Tiptoe in a dead man’s house, cobwebs snared
upon a ripped lace-trimmed blouse, you walk into Continue reading “Untouchable by Kristin Garth”

Womannotated – I Was Blythe

I Was Blythe

I would do anything to not be cute,

fifteen, though it’s, without dispute, what I am,

Blythe doll eyes, wide face, small limbs a brute

could hold in place with fingertips.  Brown eyes Continue reading “Womannotated – I Was Blythe”

The Believer by Kristin Garth

She sleepwalks in your washi house in crin-
oline, emaciated mouse weeks you
forget to feed, a nibbler, toenails, skin,
until feet bleed free, soil sheets, bamboo
floor, trafficked hardly anymore except
somnabulistic scarlet toes who
map labyrinths, shake off bedclothes, accept
razored teeth in pale furrows.  Ankle chewed
until, unconscious, she seeks the ground.  Bandage,
next time you come around — rose macaroons
gunpowder tea — into a paper cage
fantasy, unbolted door, girl you freed,
six months ago, believes enough to bleed.

 

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna, and more. She is the author of fourteen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), the forthcoming Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), The Meadow (APEP Publications) and Shut Your Eyes, Succubi (Maverick Duck). Follow her on Twitter @lolaandjolie and her website kristingarth.com

Covert art credit: Photo by Aimee Vogelsang on Unsplash

Womannotated – Calpurnia

Calpurnia

After Morticia Addams describing Wednesday’s
role model (“Wednesday’s great-aunt Calpurnia.
She was burned as a witch in 1706. They said she danced
naked in the town square and enslaved a minster ..
but don’t worry. We’ve told Wednesday: college first.”)

Young girls require a patron saint — aunt’s
abysmal ashes antiquate entwined,
Massachusetts grave, with God’s servant
whom she enslaved. Impious mind
in clerical cravat a town square dance
(performed in only raven plaits) bewitched Continue reading “Womannotated – Calpurnia”

Womannotated – No More Names

August 30th, 2019

No More Names

If you would follow, after dark, him and

his friends into the park — a boy who likes

to call you names, then make lewd demands,

midnight games. Mother said, “He’s so polite,”

his slick blonde hair, and Dad’s old spice, shirt tucked Continue reading “Womannotated – No More Names”

Atlanta – A Sonnet by Kristin Garth

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

“Death Recipe” a Sonnet by Kristin Garth

Denude the bushes after dark, each pink 

azalea plucked because of one remark —

rhododendrons could kill honeybees.  Think 

details, death recipes on your knees. Stark 

foliage fingers disgrace, frail flowers 

you bury in a pillowcase, not waste —

Continue reading ““Death Recipe” a Sonnet by Kristin Garth”

Two poems by Audrey Lindemann

Glitch Sonnet

for 1 dollar I will hold your hand and for 2 dollars I will be your big fat snowflake. for 3 I will
mean mug your enemies and for 4 dollars I will be a good girl and for 5 I will sun burn. for 6
dollars I will middle part. for 7 dollars I will make you tingle. for 7 I’ll be a bad boy. for 7 I will
self destruct and for 7 dollars I will complete you. for 7
oh apple oh silk
oh pumice stone oh tweeze
oh bath
oh sex kitten
oh green sweater
oh the dribble oh the money
this meal this sheet
oh baby oh sugar baby dribble baby
oh apple yes sweater stone oh 7 dollar
tweeze baby oh

Continue reading “Two poems by Audrey Lindemann”

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