i was born lonely and dumb.  imagined too large and too vivid.  all the beautiful futures that could have been. here i am without any magical powers for instance at an altitude of  15,000 feet.  with you on top of  the  sorrow.  on top  of the snow.  i need  two  days of quiet.  these are  all my  futures  and i love  them like a lost pet.



my emojis are carrying you out of a burning building. you’re so unconscious and so stationary. 5,000 miles away a country looks like fried potato oil. do it like a plug in a socket. look at my back tattoo. it’s a slutty billboard for attachment.  





i  am  like  the desert  when you  have to soften  the ground to dig and even then.  nearly  impenetrable. drop a  sharp  shaft  into the  ground.  nosebleeds. prickly pear. layers of death. everything moves. a hot dance. grinding up the center of its gravity. there is much  to  know and  even less  to know.  there is nothing to know.  it goes, “what?”  “what?” “what’s that?” “what did you say?”






Laura Theobald is a poetry MFA candidate at LSU. She is the author of the best thing ever (2015, Boost House), eraser poems (2014, H_NGM_N), and edna poems (forthcoming, Lame House Press). She is the current Editor-in-Chief of New Delta Review, the Assistant Editor of Spooky Girlfriend Press, and a Book Designer for BOAAT. She also works as a freelance editor and book designer. lauratheobald.net // @lidleida