Two Poems — Poetry by Jessica Lawrence

Water, Then the Tiger

I saw waterfalls and mountains

and faint rainbows against cave walls.

I saw rocks.

I saw dust on your feet.

I saw crumbling

red dust on your feet.

I saw crumbling red dust

as an afterthought about the sky

spreading across the world,

across the water.

Then the tiger came into my head

again, and settled there, hunting

for certainty. Settling for fear.

With Me

Every sound was stopped and muffled

across the pine needle floor,

and we walked.

I saw a blue bottle

half-buried in brown leaves,

and a leather shoe nearby

fading to taupe and in pieces.

This is how we walked

through the woods

and this is how we walked through the present.

The sky, and the birds, and some snakes

were where they were supposed to be.

The world kept living around us.

Like Crane’s soldier,

who had no sympathy from those animals,

or the sky, or the sun,

they did not care about us, either. Not there.

Not in faraway deserts,

but what did we know about deserts?

We kept walking through the woods.

Jessica Wiseman Lawrence lives in rural central Virginia. She recently published work in the “Where I Live” series for Silver Birch Press and has been featured in With Painted Words, Lipstick, and Zoomoozophone. She also has poems currently upcoming in Third Wednesday, Hermeneutic Chaos Literary Journal, Gloom Cupboard Magazine,The Gambler Magazine, UNTUCKED, and The Activity Report. Her work focuses on love and sexuality, current events, motherhood, poverty, and nature. She also has an interest in earth science and biology.


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