Broom by Kristin Garth

They speak websites, ignore, in black and white,
brunette exsanguinated tv mute
receptacle you can’t unsee.  Her tight
perfected v of thigh, the yogic brute
solidity of pose — fingered calves, sky
high, a dancer — you the pigtailed girl
abused next door variation.  Some spry
pike driven deep into dark curls
slick pubic hair, an offscreen strong-armed ghost,
bald back of head in frame now with a brush,
contextual clue — broom.  You loom engrossed
her fate already photographed.  No rush,
to flee, live girl, they summoned here to dance.
You’re doomed. You wait for it, by broom, entranced.

Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked the pages of magazines like Glass, Luna Luna, Anti-Heroin Chic, Drunk Monkeys, Occulum, Moonchild Magazine & many more. Her chapbook Pink Plastic House is available through Maverick Duck Press. She has two forthcoming, Pensacola Girls (Bone & Ink Press Sept 2018) and Shakespeare for Sociopaths (The Hedgehog Poetry Press Jan 2019). Follow her on Twitter: @lolaandjolie