Kate Garrett is the managing editor of Three Drops from a Cauldron, Picaroon Poetry, and Lonesome October Lit, and her own work can be found here and there – most recently in Dying Dahlia Review, Hobo Camp Review, Riggwelter, and The Literary Hatchet. Her latest poetry chapbook, You’ve never seen a doomsday like it, was published by Indigo Dreams in 2017, and the next, Losing interest in the sound of petrichor, will be published by The Black Light Engine Room Press in early 2018. She grew up in rural southern Ohio, but moved to the UK in 1999, where she still lives in Sheffield with her husband, 4.5 children, and a sleepy cat.
for Eleanor Cobham
Three walks of shame before her exile:
candle-led, overseen by men tolerant
of mystics—as long as they delivered
their lines word-perfect to the king.
In towers, in corridors, in the 21st century
—my fingerprints skim layers of loss, time
blanketing the stones, marking her final days
—settled on the moss-kissed ruin, I didn’t
want to leave her. Witch-bottled in the Anglesey
air, heavy with the sea, she was a phantom
without a name beneath a castle window.
To hex and to heal
Medea left an iron taste in Jason’s
mouth—turned his mind to rusted
blades, an absence of manhood.
Years passed, the earth his dungeon,
and as the ship’s stern crushed his sleeping
form, he dreamed of her smile.