Two Sonnets by Kristin Garth


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

until surrender, sobs to silence, cage

you crawl into its corner you could smash.

A being bound whose beauty is to run

undone by masters' pride at what they make

behave. You bow believing you've just begun

while they hunt for something new and wild to break.

You thought they'd keep you once they made you tame,

but broken things do not enchant the same.


I swallow shame. It makes me small. It tastes

of daggers down a throat sliced raw. Its stabs

so shallow, striated gut, wounded place

that must stay shut. Ingest insults, the jabs

and jokes, I guzzle greedy like you chug

a Coke. Reminds a mouth that misbehaves

the consequence of all it craves. My drug's

denial, and it elevates. Enslaves

with pleasure then procrastinates; my lips

it locks through one more lunch. A bite

of melon if I must do brunch. I sip

on serotonin. It's shrinking me. Slight

and shivered still I fight to fit inside.

Denial’s more delicious than denied.

Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola. Her sonnets and other poetry have been featured in Anti-Heroin Chic, Quail Bell Magazine, Infernal Ink, Fourth & Sycamore, Digging Through the Fat, Moonchild Magazine, Mystic Blue Review, Speculative 66, Mookychick and other publications. She’s currently constructing a poetry dollhouse chapbook entitled Pink Plastic House: Three Stories of Sonnets. Follow her on Twitter: @lolaandjolie and her website

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