In Lauren's orange painting "Pour"
a headless woman bends from the waist
a river of colored stars cascading
from the place where her neck would be.
As if one day she'd pressed
the soft spot at the sides
of her temples where a pair of glasses might rest--
and lifted off the whole busy apparatus,
exchanging thinking for divinity.
She makes me want to heave
this heavy box of self, my skull
and all its fretful contents
off my own shoulders
and become instead a vessel,
or perhaps an eruption,
at any rate not a person with a face to defend--
rather an incubator
of supernovas and new galaxies,
letting the whoosh of the big bang
pour through every mortal opening.
Graphic by Lauren Ari