Why I Deleted My Instagram
Because the architecture of failure
is always more beautiful.
Because its towers are bells
filled with half-formed things—
paintings where all the body parts
are out of proportion
and songs nobody can hum
and relationships one malfunction away from fire
and discordant rainbows of outfits
no one has ever worn—
the whole place so gorgeously broken
that even the future with its enormous, invisible wings
seems a little boring.
Lori Lamothe‘s fourth poetry collection, Tulip Fever, is due out from Kelsay Books this fall. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Blackbird, Blue River Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Shore, Memorious, Superstition Review, Third Coast, Verse Daily, ZiN Daily and elsewhere. Her latest obsessions are NFTs, box-brownie variations, creepy photos of Victorian twins, and enormous earrings.
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