Pointed bones anchoring into to the wall. My body forming pained isosceles resting against the
illusion of stability. This wall can hold me. But convincing fantasies have me melting into it
instead… white walls dissolving to permeable matter, clouded carries toward horizontal space…
bringing me to the place where atomic currents fail… the rooms between reason… not chaos or
order, but a third… the tension of opposites pressured to critical mass… a completed trinity,
three perfect allied lines… triangles to invoke fire… triangles to conjure the other… triangles to
whisper you are my portal.
Triangles I cannot move through… if I alone hold the shape.
Lauren Theresa is a queer divergent poet, plant witch, and archetypal psychotherapist living in NJ with her husband, two daughters, and maybe-dingo. She is a poetry editor at Olney Magazine and the author of the forthcoming chapbook LOST THINGS (Bullshit Lit ’22.)Her writing has appeared in HAD, Maudlin House, Warning Lines, awkward family gatherings, and more.