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