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Adopt mannequins,
like aliens in frozen state-
for whispered crime.


Howling encircles
a saint in meditation. Where
did you hide your muse?


I will ask Rilke to
come back and to write new note
messaging to god.
They just wanna be free of you.

Squash you with what
they believe to be
their superior knowledge.

They imagine
renting their own pad
with enough cold pizza
to last the winter.

Make sure
you are made to feel a ******
and don't see what
they're up to.

I may not know much,
but even someone
with an elementary education
can figure that sickness out.

Sara Fielder © June 2019
I, domestic.
I shall not want.

The floors,

they guide me,

for I have cleaneth them

to the Lord of Floors



I have created spaciousness

in mine chest

by mass distraction.

Sara Fielder © June 2019
before sleep turns
off the switch which
labored for words
they tease
like the ***** too
lazy to get up and write
them down

Sara Fielder © June 2019

Pulp of my heart squashed
by a National Park and SMELL
that there are pine needles
hither and yon/hither and yon.


It's been proven that the
lush alpine meadow
of a relationship is
fertilized by sightseeing
Colorado wilderness lookovers.


These thoughts what come
as angst stabbed by a snow topping
present without any agony.

Sara Fielder © June 2019
There are moths
in my mouth alongside
the "Sometimes
I feel like" people/
their beauty doesn't
cut like it used to.

Sara Fielder © June 2019
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