for Stormy Daniels
Each county differs, topless or full nude.
The latter you loathe because it also
includes rude house mothers examining pubes.
Law says enough hair there, nothing else shows.
Stand very straight with your knees tightly closed.
You’ll hardly move, but you will wear a cape.
Law, not cosplay, no thigh diamond disclosed
behind to frustrate. Super stripper draped
villain by law. A bare nipple is fined
next county. Raw, clear acrylic peels that make
lies true: Didn’t see nude. Puritans pine
like Presidents do. They write laws, mistakes,
so when they’re through (you’ve been enjoyed enough)
it’s not hard to put a stripper in cuffs.
Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola who occasionally, in a fever dream or ear infection, writes a little prose. Her prose has stalked magazines like X-R-A-Y Lit, SCAB, Trembling With Fear and Luna Luna Magazine. Her poetry chapbook Pink Plastic House is available from Maverick Duck Press and her second, Shakespeare for Sociopaths, is forthcoming from The Hedgehog Poetry Press in January of 2019. Follow her Twitter (@lolaandjolie), her poetry column every Thursday, The Sonnetarium (spidermirror.com/the-sonnetarium), and her website (kristingarth.wordpress.com)
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