Karen Garthe
Sweet Thing Theology

Mind benumbed or if it’s
grace her entry
her belfry of décor
thwacks the rushes of
chirping continual ground

Razzmatazz oceans
of mystery inflame her entry
here’s a cuddle of
sleeping acrobats in skin tight
skin tight

Italian
closest to the musical brain
valence
of buttermouth and dryfall
here, here in the Sun-Katch Raiment

And capes of THE SHOUTING CUSTOM OF RAIMENT
wind pines starburst ash
raiment and resins
stuck to
their resting

Benumbed or if it’s
grace lashing the rain thwacked
leaves her curlew’s
twilight
her phantom enters décor