Submission Is A Costume I Wear

There is part of me still heroic and middle school
girl in ribbons, pigtails when I tell
a sickly cat the things I understand
happened to me in taffeta, pastels
in a suburban family. They made
a soldier out of a simple schoolgirl —
an explorer unlike them, afraid
to leave a small town to spread-wide worlds.
The naked more innocent than a church
where submission to men always hurts. Now
it is a costume that I wear. Perverts
will pay to enter while I prepare. Vow
of loyalty to just females, felines
in schoolgirl uniforms of my design.

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 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

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

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