Sarah Aiko Siebuhr

FROM AN ANIMAL LET LOOSE IN WALMART  

A trip to Walmart ruins the first frost  
on your car.  

In the distance I am something else.  
From there to here  

I am some familiar animal, eating  
every day in the same form  

holding on to your human prejudice  

tired of eating  

every day. Even the dogs  
look the same. 

WATERING HOLE

The rain that day
like hard water.
Your small, unlit
fire. I find you

chandeliered like ice,
a grey shard sharp as
habit. We gather
black-blooded

hearts as thick
as steak. This milk
sick warmth, curd
of silk—

Sarah Aiko Siebuhr is a writer, bread baker and astrologer. Growing up with a Buddhist priest for a father, she has always been deeply captivated by wild and ancient things such as stars, poetry, and bread. She received her BA from Marlboro College with a focus on Sociology and Poetry, culminating in a thesis on Abu Ghraib, sexualized torture, homonationalism and the poetics of grief. She currently lives in southern Maine by the frigid and beautiful sea.

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