ALL HUMANS IN A MIDNIGHT WOODS ARE PREY
A human in the woods, midnight, should show
subservience to what might bite. Without
a hunger, even hate, a beast follows
whatever violates a woods blacked out
by a retreating sun. It would be unwise
to run — announce rebellion with strident feet.
Remain inside or tread discreet. Point eyes
deferential towards a ground replete
with haughty corpses, flower-crowned — where your
own may, one day, be found if you forget
your place. Hierarchies, after dark, outdoors,
erase human dominion each sunset
ablaze with promises of end of days:
All humans in a midnight woods are prey.
Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated poet from Pensacola and a sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked magazines like Five: 2: One, Yes, Glass, Luna Luna, Occulum, Drunk Monkeys, and other places. She is the author of eleven books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Puritan U (Rhythm & Bones Press) and Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press) and the forthcoming Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press, 2020) and Dewy Decimals (Arkay Artists, 2020). Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie) and her website (kristingarth.com).
Illustration by Matthew Yates.
This sonnet is from Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream, Kristin Garth's forthcoming book from TwistiT Press next year, which is illustrated by Matthew Yates.