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POETRY BY CLAIRE T. FEILD

claire

Claire T. Feild has taught English in middle school, high school, community college, and university settings, including Tuskegee University. She has had 548 poems published in 140 print journals and anthologies such as, Ghostlight; The Carolina QuarterlyThe Horror Zine MagazineThe Path; Space and Time MagazineThe Tulane Review; Literature TodaySpillway; and Folio. Her books are Mississippi Delta Women in PrismSouthern Women: The 1950s; A Delta Vigil, which is about her growing up white and female in the Mississippi Delta; and Mississippi Delta Memories.

FABRICATION

Since lies to him are the truth,
we wonder about his
sanity.

He laughs and curses as he has
large groups of people
fall into his traps made
out of the product fake
news.

Staying pregnant with fabrications,
he never tires of the art
of reproduction.

An eyesore to those who follow
the facts, he sheds hypocrisy.

Because he earmarks repetitious
comments, he is never
without the same
mother lode to yell to his
constituents.

Most hope he will spend the rest
of his life riding escalators
in the towers he owns.

THE CURSE

The black dot on the tip end of her nose
is resistant to the most energetic
scrub.

When she looks into the mirror, the dot
seems to expand, her other freckles
small, but gangly to further irritate
her.

After she sees the dermatologist, he takes
one look at her face and growls,
knowing her face will look like
a basket case when he finishes
toying with it.

Asleep, she dreams about the beauteous
ones, their faces as soft as the cream
they use to constantly splather
their faces and apparently their
brains.

Since the laser is hyper, she feels herself
embrace life ever so quickly.

While her face looks like holes in red Jello,
she buttresses herself from a second
look, her premonition that others
will think she looks worse than
before.

Because she does looks sinister, she runs
away, a grotto too busy with the
entanglement of her body with
vines to pay attention to her looks.

She has meals, a place to sleep, and a place
to write her couplets here.      

CONSONANT

Their relationship smooth, difficulty
is foreign to their way of
thinking.

Since life does not carry on its
shoulders perfection, they
are bound to fall over a bump
in the road.

Their first argument testy, they vow
they are not meant to be.

Yet they stay together as the storms
crawl into their cavities, creating
larger holes in their bodies.

Afraid of what might happen next, they
fly like eagles to other adventures,
their apt to meet each other again
not consequential.