November 4, 2015

Two poems by Jessica Wiseman Lawrence


The clouds crumble.
Lightning cracks the troubled sky
with its electric whip
and brightens the sky with its silence.

Tall, tough grasses bend.
That smell of a storm seals
my surroundings against
the fever that stretched across the mountains

hours before.


Worms, mole-rats, incubating locusts,
and the fossilized dig
or wait in complete darkness.
They live ever-tunneled in the meat and muscle
beneath the skin of Earth.

Do they feel sorry for themselves, encased and blind?

No! They do not.

They do four things:

1.      rest…
2.      work…
3.      live…
4.      emerge…

Jessica Wiseman Lawrence studied creative writing at Longwood University, earning a B.A. and participating in the university's M.F.A program. You can find her recent work upcoming or published in Helen, Origins, Antiphon, and Third Wednesday, along with many others. She lives in rural central Virginia, where she is an office manager by day.

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