Poetry: Incarnadine by Kristin Garth

Incarnadine 

 

The next incarnation she is just a 

disembodied head floating above the 

places where she bled on holidays 

costumed in velveteen incarnadine,

contorted crochet covered limbs for crowds

of privileged pseudonymous puritans 

who pretend dispassion seated in dark shrouds

until the promenade is at its end — 

depend on low lights, discreet, beneath their seats,

the buzzer that procures a secret sent 

to suffer both the bitter and the sweet

recompensed always until the accident 

and sadly then her family instead.

Blessed is the disembodied head.

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and a Best of the Net 2020 finalist. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of over 20 books of poetry including Crow Carriage (Sweet Tooth Story Books) and The Stakes (Really Serious Literature) and the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal.