The Golden Triangle

by Victoria Glidden

Oct 29, 2025

∙ Paid

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

The Golden Triangle 

by Victoria Glidden 

The whole block tastes like dog piss. 
They’ve stacked us up, up, up, so high,
measuring paws to square inches of squashed concrete. 
No color, worse-than-none, gray

stones fall, dive, plummet, 
towards me, on my bike, with no helmet. 
I wear my helmet now. 

Gears grind, jackhammers pummel 
hawks hunt pigeon…

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