a girl in the woods goes reliably wild

by Kristin Garth

You are losing touch with humanity.

Scurry amidst the flat eyes, chittering teeth

until only in dreams do you even see 

any flesh resembling the silk underneath

the tangled dark mane no blade deigns to tame.

Follow a serpent three days as if it’s

a game, on your belly, without a shame 

forgotten a month ago when your dress rips

and the world grows too hot.  You rend

 it like the name a father gave without undue 

thought.  Syllables like chicory petals hide,

blue, in your teeth, swallowing speech you 

attempted as a miserable child. 

A girl in the woods goes reliably wild

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and a Best of the Net finalist.  Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of many books of poetry including The Stakes (Really Serious Literature) and a short story collection You Don’t Want This.  She is the editor of seven anthologies and 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