Taut thighs, nineteen, an alibi, a nude,
New Jersey. Leaned against a ladder back
a growl inside an ear. Your crop colludes
to cleave its way to pink. Its tongue that thwacks
a thirsty trek toward a taste of cleft
so deftly drinks the discipline of your
desire. A whistle race to sweat, lips left
to bite, bereft of breath. This run endured
its finish line is bed, a harried head,
a mane you groom to gleams, pristine and pure.
A ribbon and a rub before a spread,
a cooling down before another ride,
the keeper sets the gait, and I abide.
A lash that strikes a girl who feels no blow.
You beg, in text, discreetly over lunch.
Your master’s name you do not know.
Chatroom, summons, avatars you follow
a series, strangers with demands you serve
with just your hands. Type dialogue you could
not say. Your suffering for online pervs
is not roleplay. Time zone troubles, you should
just sleep. Online masters line up to beat.
You Google synonyms for cock & whore;
you fear their wrath, their boredom more. Repeat
performer keystrokes moans & cum. No
desire will touch a tongue. Each far away
word they say, their laptop sub will obey.
These poems originally appeared in Spider Mirror in July 2018
Kristin Garth is a kneesock enthusiast and a Best of the Net nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked magazines like Glass, Five:2: One, Anti-Heroin Chic, formercactus, Occulum, Luna Luna, Yes & many more. She has a chapbook Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), two forthcoming: Pensacola Girls (Bone & Ink Press, Oct 2018) and Shakespeare for Sociopaths (The Hedgehog Poetry Press Jan 2019). Her full length, Candy Cigarette, is forthcoming April 2019 (The Hedgehog Poetry Press). Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie), her weekly poetry column (https://www.rhythmnbone.com/sonnetarium) and her website (kristingarth.wordpress.com).
Image by Joe Abbruscato, found on Flickr: https://flic.kr/p/dUnfv2