Photo Essays

Lauren Isabeau



No items found.

I see a box,

And I wonder about its contents.

Now that I’m in one

I wonder which one it might be:

A music box,

with  music-box birds

(I’m a girl

who has spent a year hallucinating birds.

So this would make sense)

Each surface a mouth,

opens if asked

the right question

Each mouth has a taste,

and, itself, tastes…

But with all of the mouths and music

how could my heart still be

a box of snow.

So perhaps this is a jewel box

I’m in

Made of eyes sad as crocodiles

wherein I’m shaped by hands like flicking wet tongues

Shaped, re-shaped, then shaped again

and again

Until my hair has become thin

enough to feel the nighttime as it blows through

Lauren Isabeau Doelling




1st Floor 39 Indigo Mews
London N16 9AE
United Kingdom
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