You Overhear You Are Going To Breed by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

You Overhear

You Are Going To Breed 

When bathroom walls are thin, a gilled girl 

indecent, listens in to workers, loud, 

tunneling toward your tank while you curl

up knees, an ear against the wall, scowl

attempting to hear it all, the lurid 

lyrics men will sing, speech of bodies that 

make cheeks sting like, a podcast, perverted, 

you aren’t supposed to hear inside this vat 

where you have disappeared.  Your secret show 

is spoiled one afternoon, when the chatter 

concerns what is coming soon — a fellow 

that is in part a fish.  It does not matter 

you have neither the desire nor the need. 

You overhear you are going to breed. 

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of seventeen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House  (Maverick Duck Press), Crow Carriage (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), The Meadow (APEP Publications) and Golden Ticket from Roaring Junior Press.  She is 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