The memory tastes of oranges.
When I wore your lies, I would become
the monster and you loved me
for it. The same blue sentence
rolled around us, broke apart.
Finally, we were swallowed by time.
The river traveled its course,
I could still hear the faint slosh
of wave at shore. We saw differently,
we saw each other in some strange
Picasso way and all of that
became exhausted. Wounds
heal, fire becomes ash, the rest of it
turns and turns again until
the light catches and fractures
in bright, gold streams.
About the Author:
Mercedes Lawry has been publishing poetry for over thirty years in such journals as Poetry, Puerto del Sol, New Madrid, Seattle Review, Nimrod, and Saint Ann’s Review. She has published two chapbooks – “There are Crows in My Blood” and “Happy Darkness.” She has received honors from the Seattle Arts Commission, Jack Straw Foundation, Artist Trust and Richard Hugo House and held a residency at Hedgebrook. She has also published short fiction as well as stories and poems for children.