Work of the Week: Laura Grothaus


perfume, which by necessity
must diffuse violets dulling the nose
to their own scent when I was
four, the cow ate my dress mistaking
patterned violets for real ones then I was
the girl now I am the cow you are
the dress you are the dress and so is
everything I touch

Laura Grothaus lives in Baltimore, the unceded territory of the Piscataway-Conoy. Interested in the politics of magic and memory, she’s at work on a book of poems about having a body and a novel about not having a body. Her collaborations with musicians, activists, performers, and visual artists have spawned theatre about desire, workshops about memory maps, and more. You can find her online at

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