someone summon a
true muse

(Quivering)

drawing in and out with a violin breath
from its cathedral chest, expanding
happiness's legitimacy

there's no point in questioning
why an omniscient mockery of me
is made along side the
mellifluous sentences he makes

there is a ministry of silence
outweighing the dense space
between ears, and there are beings
faintly floating there in the distance
that cause a sigh of relief

Sara Fielder © May 2018