☽ ◯ ☾ MOONCHILD MAGAZINE
  • Home
  • About
  • Issues
  • Moonchaps
  • Submit
  • Contact
  • Links

Sonnets by Kristin Garth

Leo Lie
 
A squinty, smoking Leo leans against
my chilly cheek sequestered to the floor.
A photo movie Romeo condensed
to four by six dimensions tells no more
a story than the antiquated key
I clench inside my hand.  An echo ache
murmured mistake, a mystery empty,
elusive as this riddle room. What breaks
it down:  handwritten "ticket to the moon."
Your Honeymooner threat about a box
of oak unlocked, LA postmark, one I swoon
since Gilbert Grape who sent a pic of cock.
You took that picture with you yesterday.
I'd lied ten years that it was thrown away.
Prompted by this tweet:

Prompt: you wake up in an empty room with 3 items--a photo of DiCaprio, a skeleton key & one ticket to the moon. Write a mystery about it. pic.twitter.com/xy6wgLSqJZ

— Moonchild Magazine (@moonchildmag) September 18, 2017
If the Star Fits
 
My browser, spheres of smiles against my phone
a screen, black sky, night mode, so many stars.
Such faces, flush with heat and glimmer, clone
a sun's salvation, sequence stretched to Mars,
but I pick you.  Too cold to show a face,
eclipse of avatar transfixed me to
a tragedy gone crystallized in place
of fuel. White dwarf projects reserves that you
have saved for imitating life. Display
of dank deceit I disregard myself
too much to doubt. A blight so bright betrayed
by frigid, fingered rays that hanker health.
Degenerating star, my light you stole.
Your twinkling death that drains me to black hole.
The Lady of the Log
 
She cradles secrets carved from trees. A flame
demonic births a mystery. A jar
of oil he makes a door in groves she blames
for pain forever more. A ship to stars,
a little girl, between two worlds and lakes
of pearl. Returned to peaks with wrists
tattooed she never speaks of, shaped, awake.
A husband hers for just one day, a kiss
that’s soot in smoke; a fire takes him away. 
Consumes, the coward, leaves just dust, inside
a tree, a voice she trusts. An axe conveys
a wooden child her sweater swaddle hides. 
From love belied by blaze her wedding day,
a log is born with many things to say.
More magic by Kristin Garth here & here

Picture
Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker. In addition to Moonchild Magazine, her sonnets have stalked the pages of Anti-Heroin Chic, Fourth & Sycamore, Drunk Monkeys, The Visitant, Neologism Poetry Journal, Occulum and many other publications. Her sonnet dollhouse chapbook Pink Plastic House is available from Maverick Duck Press. Follow her on Twitter: @lolaandjolie and Medium: Medium.com/@lolaandjolie.
MOONCHILD MAGAZINE © COPYRIGHT 2018. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
  • Home
  • About
  • Issues
  • Moonchaps
  • Submit
  • Contact
  • Links
✕