Kristin Garth

Teardrop Scar

Last time you see your dom he flies to you.
He wants to see this concrete castle where
you undo a tied-up oxford for new
clientele each night, the loosely braided hair,
a thousand dollars wrapped against your thigh
rubber-banded tight, right below the tear-drop scar —
both of these are who you are, the shy
hustler who makes men pay, canes, riding crops,
paternal cocks you must obey. He came
to say goodbye to this — a body that
he cannot kiss, topless, fictitious name,
a businessman who buys your shame, a brat
who wears the remnants of his tear-dropped scar
He wants to remember you as a star.

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. In addition to Burning House Press, her sonnets have stalked journals Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of twelve books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press) and the forthcoming Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press) and The Meadow — in which the poem above is included — (Apep Publications, 2020). Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie) and her website http://kristingarth.com
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