Poetry: Incarnadine by Kristin Garth
The next incarnation she is just a
disembodied head floating above the
places where she bled on holidays
costumed in velveteen incarnadine,
contorted crochet covered limbs for crowds
of privileged pseudonymous puritans
who pretend dispassion seated in dark shrouds
until the promenade is at its end —
depend on low lights, discreet, beneath their seats,
the buzzer that procures a secret sent
to suffer both the bitter and the sweet
recompensed always until the accident
and sadly then her family instead.
Blessed is the disembodied head.
Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and a Best of the Net 2020 finalist. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of over 20 books of poetry including Crow Carriage (Sweet Tooth Story Books) and The Stakes (Really Serious Literature) and the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal.
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