Kristin Garth

Sacraments of Suffering

They will decorate her suffering with 
a wildflower wreath desiccated in 
the spring, the last season she would drift
anywhere to bloom, pollinated within 
a blacked-out room until her petals can
not hold the weight of brutal desires 
that bruise, contuse, suffocate.  Understand
the sacraments for which she once prayed, dire
needs of other lives, suburban seeds
intended to flower into wives.  Strays 
towards smoke signals, backyard thistles, weeds,
forbidden forests where she at last may 
bleed in preparation for that fabled place 
where good girls go to be erased. 

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