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.