“It makes me out to be a villain,” what
you tell him when you make that joke he hates:
Hit it first, both ways — though his was just the gut.
That isn’t true, his fear is clear: conflated
in your eyes with the man you both despise.
“You were just ten,” you mean that punch. Though
he’s recalled real villain’s touches — error, wise
enough, at 17, he isn’t prone
to make. A villain made you pieces, boy
gone gentle tinkers, toils to aggregate.
It’s why you gave herself to him, not coy
just stripped then climbed in bed, 18, first date.
The one who always follow where you lead
and never questions why you didn’t bleed.
Kristin Garth is a kneesock enthusiast and a Best of the Net nominated sonnet stalker. Her poetry has stalked magazines like Glass, Yes, Five:2: One, Anti-Heroin Chic, Former Cactus, Occulum, Luna Luna, & many more. She has a chapbook Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), two forthcoming: Pensacola Girls (Bone & Ink Press, Sept 2018) and Shakespeare for Sociopaths (The Hedgehog Poetry Press Jan 2019). Her full length, Candy Cigarette, is forthcoming April 2019 (The Hedgehog Poetry Press). She’s currently working on a poetic collection entitled Puritan U. Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie), her weekly poetry column (https://www.rhythmnbone.com/
