Dollhouse will dim when he commands goodnight.
Six chandeliers, nine
beside your bed, brick candle wax free bleeds
eight hours in a magician’s stead. He leaves
his proxy flame, perpetual night light,
a circle cipher in a canopy
that maps good girl geography. Respite
red curtains, bridal lace bedspread, a wet
embroidered pillow for a weepy head.
Eyes half open/awake with fear, regret,
a bedroom window peek pulls wide with dread.
Unblinking terror magic magnifies,
a familiar squint, ice-blue, female eye.
Kristin Garth is a Pushcart & Best of the Net nominated poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked magazines like Five: 2: One, Yes, Glass, Anti-Heroin Chic, Occulum, Drunk Monkeys, Luna Luna, TERSE. Journal and many more. Her chapbook Pink Plastic House is available from Maverick Duck Press, and she has another Pensacola Girls from Bone & Ink Press. She has two forthcoming: Shakespeare for Sociopaths (The Hedgehog Poetry Press Jan 2019) and Puritan U (Rhythm & Bones Press March 2019) from She also has a