but a chasm recurring in the periphery,
gurgling oily words like Emily and Eternity—
If I’m lucky, I taste my own bullshit
before it ruins an anniversary meal.
If I’m blessed, I digest the curse for good,
lay an egg then feed it to that shadow,
and make it maze itself to exhaustion.
My initiative would be poison
to its syntonic echo. Each day,
I mean to widen in the throat.
Lauren Paredes is a storyteller across mediums with a soft spot for the unusual. Her work has appeared in TRNSFR, Warm Milk, phoebe, Storm Cellar and elsewhere. Her first chapbook of poems, Otherwise, Magic, was released in 2019 by First Matter Press. She currently resides in the Berkshires, nestled between hills.