by Kristin Garth
On set, they’d had the baguette which, of course,
necessitated butter. Golden foil,
a stick, the men, the two of them, endorse
with just their eyes.
Surprise they will not spoil
obtaining consent from a teenage girl.
The script had called for rape, they’d simulate,
contracted, acted, staged but all a world
away from real humiliation, hate
and rage. Their secret makes her feel it like
a girl. All art is made from accidents.
Their method calls for acts they may dislike,
her damage, unintended consequence.
A one-take shot that she cannot forget.
Director cops to guilt but no regret.
Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola. Her sonnets and other poetry have been featured in Anti-Heroin Chic, Quail Bell Magazine, Mookychick, Infernal Ink, Occulum, Fourth & Sycamore, Speculative 66, Moonchild Magazine and many other publications. She’s currently constructing a poetry dollhouse chapbook entitled Pink Plastic House: Three Stories of Sonnets. Follow her on Twitter: @lolaandjolie.
Art by C. O’Connor.