2 sonnets by Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth, Poetry

Voltaic 

Cut out a diamond of charcoal toile. 

Sacrifice black ribbons from your own hair.

Hand stitch satin lengths of tail.  The squall 

against sash windows announces it’s prepared

to share its primordial sparks.  Heavens, 

mutating black and blue, even rumble 

while you dare pause before a mirror, question 

appearance one last time in lieu of being humble 

on nights, electric and divine.  The bolt 

will trickle down the silver twine you wound 

yesterday with care.  If you deserve its jolts,

they will find you everywhere.  Crown 

of twinkling gigajoules, luminescent teeth,

at last voltaic as what you survived beneath. 


Survival 

Her toes are dangling off a stone fence post 

encircling the sinkhole that swallows  

parents, reposed, bottom half of their house, close 

to all of their yard.  Rainstorm which follows

fills her hollow along with the boulevard 

abutting the hovel with precipitation

until the alligators arrive.  She stands guard,

mewling kitten in hand, shrewd calculations

made to survive.  A free hand unbuttons 

the black cotton dress that hid the shame 

of a belly she could not express when 

the world was unbroken, she was to blame.

She quiets the kitten with milk at her chest.

First problem solved in a new world she loves.