Mercedes Lawry 


Flatness and my throat 
closes up. Nothing between 
my galloping heart and the terrible 
part of being alive. Stranger 
to my self, my safe self, 
hidden and clever. My skin 
turns transparent, knotted veins 
and muscle laid bare 
to a biting wind. Time 
thickens and sounds become 
a handful of pins digging 
at my neck. Even the poor 
geese, traveling south 
are so much useless commotion. 
I do not lose my thoughts 
to fog and this makes me nervous. 
It's unclear who is owed forgiveness. 
In my dreams the liquid runs 
down my throat and then I wait. 

Copyright 2000, Mercedes Lawry 

 Mercedes Lawry has been publishing poetry for twenty-three years in such magazines as Fine Madness, Seattle Review, Madison Review, Hawaii Pacific Review and Switched-on Gutenberg.  She's received an Artist Trust GAP Grant and a residency at Hedgebrook.  She has also published stories for children. 

Switched-on Gutenberg/Vol. 4, No. 2

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