Rip rap scree and the eerie wind that wove itself double and back in a high wheeze. There was nothing left of comfort in the black storm, nothing smooth or sweet. The wool and steel and glass were only a puzzle of dust. The bird wings ripped out and sewn onto a broken tree. An oily light squeezed out of a disturbed sky like sick from a mad beast and the sour stink of it all, the gulp of decay, a final dribble of something alive turning back to raw earth.
Rip rap scree and the eerie wind that wove itself double and back in a high wheeze. There was nothing left of comfort in the black storm, nothing smooth or sweet. The wool and steel and glass were only a puzzle of dust. The bird wings ripped out and sewn onto a broken tree. An oily light squeezed out of a disturbed sky like sick from a mad beast and the sour stink of it all, the gulp of decay, a final dribble of something alive turning back to raw earth.
Mercedes Lawry
Mercedes Lawry has been publishing poetry for over thirty years in such journals as Poetry, Rhino, Puerto del Sol, Folio, New Madrid, Seattle Review, Nimrod, and Salamander. Her chapbook There are Crows in My Blood was published by Pudding House in 2007; her chapbook Happy Darkness was released by Finishing Line Press in 2011. She has received honors from the Seattle Arts Commission, Jack Straw Foundation, Artist Trust, and Richard Hugo House. She has also published fiction as well as stories and poems for children.
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