You complain that I throw rocks but they’re only baby little ones. Back home we would call them pea rocks. The ones spray painted orange we would call “from the moon.” There’s a silver one with flakes I have not yet attempted to identify. There’s an unfinished house. Nature seems more brutal against its columns. I shared my cape with you and we rode the car up on two wheels.
Laura Theobald is from the Florida Keys and has lived in various places in the South. Her first full-length book of poetry is What My Hair Says About You from the Montreal-based small press publisher Metatron (2016). Her chapbooks are Edna Poems (Lame House, 2016), The Best Thing Ever (Boost House, 2015), and Eraser Poems (H_NGM_N, 2014). She completed her MFA in Poetry from LSU in 2016, and has served as an editor and book designer for a number of small press publishers. She is currently a book designer for BOAAT and OOMPH!, and a freelance editor and book designer. Her recent poems have appeared in The Wanderer, Sink, Hobart, Pinwhe
el, Witch Craft Magazine, The Atlas Review, Everyday Genius, Black Warrior Review, and other places. @lidleida // lauratheobald.tumblr.com
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan