Madeline Studebaker, Liminality

Madeline Studebaker

Liminality

so I reside in that liminal state, in that betweenness. the almost new, the not quite. balanced on the chair onto which we toss laundry that’s no longer fresh but isn’t dirty either. digging through boxes of popsicle sticks and fabric strips intended but not assembled for a project. repulsed by the dishcloth that sours on the counter because it’s meant to clean but merely sits. bathed in the arcade glow that bridges the Christmas lights and New Year's fireworks. reigning on the precipice