In cheval mirror you will stare, pilfered
brush, poised in mid-air, like serrated blade
a stranger proffered late last night — silver
lessons against your rib cage, light. Made
a dimming map — organs, veins — bloodletting
explained, damp skin, arterial spray,
how deep daggers descend in denouement
of tragedy. Close your eyes, not to pray,
see skeletons resembling family
or guardians for little whores. Open
eyes, your unmentionable drawer. Key
is blade when you are ready to begin.
They have been inside but they did not know
when pupil widens, you release a crow.
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 fifteen books of poetry including Crow Carriage, Shut Your Eyes, Succubi (Maverick Duck Press), Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press) and The Meadow (APEP Publications). She is the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie) and her website kristingarth.com