I still have nightmares of stripping where I
am unprepared. It’s never nudity that makes
me scared. It is the piled white kneesocks on my
comforter at home. Realize the mistake
as I hear on the microphone, “Roll call, ten
minutes,”(night shift is about to begin)
cotton candy body spray, baby lotioned
skin, then I reach into my opened
pull case to extract a sole pair that will
be my disgrace; soiled later tonight on the
main stage, debased by some customer who feels
assuaged, middle aged, deprived of his money
that my filthy occupation has marked me.
Not a thing, in real life, I’d allowed him to see.
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 20 books of poetry including Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), and Girlarium (Fahmidan Journal). 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