Search
  • Neon Mariposa Magazine

Two Poems by Kristin Garth

hello stranger


she whispers, harrier eyes, buckle-front

short coat, pole dancer’s thighs, nomadic waif

accident prone on british streets bluffs, blunt,

for scones, sandwiches, stitches up neat. safe

approximation of a fairytale,

alice, tea server, with obituarist’s

details, even name some memorial avails:

a savior, children, kind you assist to kiss.

full nude performer recidivist, when

you disappoint her, throw her away back

to neon, those strangers ready to pay — men

pretending love to topless amnesiacs,

last funeral plaque, persona construed.

she would have been anyone to love you.





Paper Kitten


A paper ball is breathing in your bed.

Translucent ribcage, a folded head. Ears

rotating at the sounds, a dreamy head

discerning what it’s found. It wasn’t here

when your eyes shut. It stretches a washi spine,

reveals red dot birthmark, a paper cut —

you understand this gift, pet, was designed

by his own hands, in mustard/butternut;

just one enchantment at the end, purview

of magic men, incantation to make

it breathe, to twitch a tail enough that you

believe in magic, forgive his mistake.

A paper kitten he enchants to breathe,

a little life he leaves for one you grieve.






Kristin Garth is a Pushcart & Best of the Net nominated sonnet stalker.  Her poetry has stalked magazines like Glass, Yes, Five:2: One, Former Cactus, Occulum & many more.  She has four chapbooks including Shakespeare for Sociopaths (Hedgehog Poetry Press). She has another forthcoming, Puritan U (Rhythm & Bones Press March 2019). Her full length, Candy Cigarette, is forthcoming April 2019 (The Hedgehog Poetry Press). Follow her on Twitter:  (@lolaandjolie), and her website kristingarth.com

40 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

the grand tour by Angelina Martin

the cankerous grackles in the parking lots swarming in synchronicity like a biblical plague they don’t scare easy no matter how mean you make your face instead they congregate right in your path and t

Cat Gut by Holly Day

across the room from me, my guitar pulses bright colors, throbs dreams I can’t ignore. I think about sleep but the music’s too loud. my guitar sprouts lilies not intended to twine, purrs of birds I’ll

Three Poems by Jenny Andres

Hope to Thaw If I were frozen in the ground, I’d hope to thaw. I’m left with muddy footprints and sticky fingers- I’m a thief. I stole what I needed to survive: a wet tongue, a Celtic cross against a