Poetry by Mercedes Lawry |


Humps of cloud pass slowly
in the morning, revealing a blue,
faint and milky. I gaze
out the window as the furnace huffs
and the scattershot rain drums
on the roof like fevered punctuation.

What do I know about the deeper truth?
Here on the couch, reading alternately
about bears and torture, while scores of others
trek to church to pray for the mad world
and their own protection. For death
is always in the room, sometimes silent,
sometimes uttering a brittle gasp.

Mercedes Lawry was born and raised in Pittsburgh, PA and has lived in Seattle almost thirty years. She's published poetry in such journals as Poetry, Rhino, Nimrod, Poetry East, Seattle Review, and others. Her chapbook, There Are Crows in My Blood, was published by Pudding House Press. Among her honors are awards from the Seattle Arts Commission, Hugo House, and Artist Trust. Mercedes has been a Jack Straw Writer and has held a residency at Hedgebrook. Currently she is the Director of Communications at the Museum of History & Industry.