Treacherous Lives

Mercedes Lawry The hungry who cling to the side of bleak mountains, their stories carried by black birds whose cries are empty of promise. The pale-faced couple, in the midst of a swamp, too old to start again, too tired. The small child in a bed, bald, with epic eyes. The continuum collapses into measures… More

Plant Life

Mercedes Lawry I grow halfway into the gluttonous sun. Gold nimbus gives false protection, but I’m content to glory in the reach. I would be a blazing hand surprising the gulls as I forsake roots and reason, sip greedily at light, nerves firing, little flames all along my skin. Mercedes Lawry has published poetry in… More

Later, Upon Reflection

Mercedes Lawry The Modigliani women come to me in half dream, offering comfort. Without brittle words or lies. Sorrow knows sorrow in the tracery of bones. The hands of the pianist are young birds and hungry. Music melds with the elements of a body in motion. And in repose, a flattery of death, which I… More