You could have a big dipper   

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Kill Your Darling by Kristin Garth



You taught me never to bury the lead,

to speak with audacity, to open

with greed for each morsel you would feed

me by hand, your pet pupil, housebroken,

to stroke and command. Train me to compose

without clothes on the floor, simplified

like the prose instructors adore. Dispose

of the ego. Trust — no need to verify.

Remain a secret until the day that

I die upon some hill, significance

known to you alone. I was an accident

deleted from your phone — then existence.

Bones form your initials across a green field.

I am the darling you should not have killed.


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

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