Kristin Garth


Venous Barbies bleed in hot pink as do
the Kens, for dolls with cute sadistic kinks —
or Serial Stacies, little sisters you 
didn’t know were the bad seeds, who wink
at polyvinyl chloride able to bleed 
out for their pleasure next to the rocket 
ship swing sets.  Blonde braids, pink bows, evil deeds
without human regrets, knives in pockets,
tap shoes on the tiniest feet announce 
an arrival but exit discreet after 
the final heart beat, pink brain matter bounces 
off rosy linoleum floors.  Laughter 
eluding the detectives of Barbiecore — 
the aesthetic that slays is Barbiegore.

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