Words by Kristin Garth
Enunciated in the wind, you hear
wet whispers — Étienne. Tails translucent,
scaled sirens flit flukes in sky, reappear
when he is nigh. A pretense pubescent
encasing patriarch. All flora bend
towards its monarch. Fauna, for the last
three centuries, in longleaf woods descend,
appeasing sorcery. Beasts bleat, aghast
with memories, deadheading does bloomed
to rose with vicious kiss upon a nose.
Horned diadem, all disrespect is doom.
Freshwater phantoms loom when he creeps close,
mermaids remade sky swimmers, graying ghosts
beseeching efflorescence, lachrymose.
Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her poetry has stalked magazines like Glass, Yes, Five:2: One, Former Cactus, Occulum & many more. She has six chapbooks including Shakespeare for Sociopaths (Hedgehog Poetry Press), Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Puritan U (Rhythm & Bones Press March 2019) and The Legend of the Were Mer (Thirty West Publishing House March 2019). Her full length, Candy Cigarette, is forthcoming April 2019 (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), and she has a fantasy collaborative full length A Victorian Dollhousing Ceremony forthcoming in June (Rhythm & Bones Lit) and Flutter (TwistiT Press) in January 2020. Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie), and her website kristingarth.com