7/12/2017 0 Comments Poetry by Kristin GarthSLENDER SECRETS He thinks I had a choice. This grandpa cop in hipster glasses, ironed shirt who writes my words like “tendrils," “mansion," doesn't stop to question that they might be true. First night, seduced, at six, into your sly service, The circles drawn on dolls you say are meant for me unless I listen. Go from nervous to abject fear by twelve years old. You send by then your pixie proxy, swimming pools with slender secrets. Sharp sacrifice we surmise because we both see. Two tools, who'll slice, like air, for you, a strawberry. You taught me that a knife is but a key; to kill a friend, not choice, necessity. LAFAVE Restrain myself for months before I write you that first pass. Ignore all your advances, your monologues on miniskirts as tight as ones I wore, fourteen, like you. Glances upskirt, for days, I dangle, desktop, hear discussions of my DSLs with all your friends. I buy new lipstick but do not go near you. Behave myself almost to the end of school until I slip; you slide inside my planning period and SUV. A man I see behind a child that hides grown-up worries: what becomes of me? You are the aggressor because you're male, and we both know I'm far too hot for jail. Bio: Kristin Garth is a poet/novelist from Pensacola, Florida. In addition to Anti-Heroin Chic, she has published poetry in Quail Bell Magazine and No Other Tribute, an anthology. She’s currently writing lots of sonnets and a novel The Meadow.
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