Crush Me

after Spanglish


I have a nightmare that I fuck the way

Tea Leoni does Adam Sandler

in Spanglish like a rabid splay 

of flesh, few frenzied breaths, faux porn banter 

will fulfill some obligation, this myth

we need to feel much.  But I have felt too

much all my life.  My dad confused me with 

his wife.  It has made me prove to 

dozens more how I would suffer behind 

bedroom doors if they would know I am real

as dictated tears, years they steal. Resigned 

to their own disinclination to feel,

be Adam Sandler unhappy underneath.

I’d rather feel you crush me, be it brief. 


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 forthcoming 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 kristingarth.com

Categories: Poetry

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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