March 14, 2019
by Kristin Garth
Welch’s & Cheese
There’s no debate at Brigham Young. Law school
— no teams, brainwashed trained tongues. Why argue what
we don’t believe? Research & ridicule,
heretics cleave divinity; rebut
His word? Of heresy, you’ll make a club —
shy cafeteria boy forms with you.
February 7, 2018
The two you miss. My raveled ribbon yanked,
dismissed. A chase to tunnels, huddled pleas
while we hug knees. A gingham dress that flanks
a goosebumped tease of skinny arm I squeeze.
We hear your feet. They pound playground,
a pack that grows discreet but c...
November 27, 2017
Begins when you are ten. Attack, surprise,
you can’t defend. A friend, they say, but do
they make you bleed and want to die? Disguise
in black your need, the stain that says you’re
a girl that’s dead enough to grieve. To wake
in sheets as red a...
October 18, 2017
They bless the beast unbroken. Virgin limbs
to leather, wrists and ankles first to squeeze
inside a strap. Your feral glint goes dim
too quickly once you feel the trap. The pleas,
an easy emulation cover rage,
and panic, frustration. Subdued by lash