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Outside the Lines

Sometimes living in NYC is just a bit too much for me. I wrote this poem during one of those frequent, daydreaming spells where I imagine myself living beside the sea in a simple cottage.

Outside the Lines

by Lauren Taub Cohen

I am surrounded by

an empire

of squares and rectangles

pressed into

flattened steel columns

that jab the sky

until only a narrow

blue slit can been seen

like a bookmark crammed

between the chapters

of my tumultuous life.

I walk in lines,

turn at sharp

right angles,

and brace myself against

the frantic pace

accompanied by the

sound of grinding drills

and caffeinated crowds


I belong beside the sea.

Where the arch of a wave

knows no line,

no boundaries,

no sharp turns.

Where the earth is soft

and the languid landscape

softens and soothes.

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