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Candy, Dandy

  • Dec 31, 2019
  • 1 min read

by Kristin Garth


There’s not a mark upon your exposed skin. Bruised buttocks start where hemlines end. Last night was spanking before audience, crimson. Today, the purpled consequence, in light of morning, lobby stroll, pale dress, ribbons one engraven adornment of control —  a collar like the others wear, given in exchange for your underwear; then told to find a strong young man, bell boy, fifty dollars in your hand for candy, dandy. These thighs slide slick, surprised how fast he sees what’s buckled, thick, against your throat. Good, he does not inquire, nature of this request. It isn’t up to you what happens next.


Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of fourteen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House (Maverick Duck Press), Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), The Meadow (APEP Publications) and Shut Your Eyes, Succubi (Maverick Duck). Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie) and her website http://kristingarth.com

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