Whatever the loneliness, drawing closer<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The French teacher remains unemployed
\nand yet committed to a daily excursion,
\nable to walk past any shop, open or closed,
\ncarrying linens or sleek shoes or pears.
\nReading the encyclopedia in dim light,
\na kind of swimming or prayer. No pets,
\nno children either and no regrets.
\nThe neighbor notices much of this
\nbut fails to muster compassion,
\nturning back to the long howl of the blues
\nand his own preoccupation with philately.
\nNo one is traveling in the corporal sense.
\nThin trees cast shadows on the avenue,
\nsuggesting incarceration or clever design
\nor even a cast of pencils about to scribble
\nthe ultimate piece of fiction, where everyone
\nis saved, the teacher given gainful
\nemployment and the neighbor, a valuable stamp.
\nEradicating loneliness as a sweet rain
\nbegins to fall, amid echoes of the dead, passports
\nclutched in their shivery hands.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Whatever the loneliness, drawing closer” is reprinted from Happy Darkness <\/em>(Finishing Line Press, 2011) and originally appeared in Seattle Review.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mercedes Lawry<\/a> has published poetry in such journals as Poetry, Rhino, Nimrod<\/em>, Poetry East, Seattle Review,<\/a><\/em>\u00a0Bellingham Review,<\/em><\/a> and others.\u00a0 She\u2019s also published fiction and humor as well as stories and poems for children.\u00a0 Among the honors she\u2019s received are awards from the Seattle Arts Commission, Hugo House, and Artist Trust.\u00a0 She\u2019s been a Jack Straw Writer,<\/a> held a residency at Hedgebrook<\/a> and is a Pushcart Prize nominee.\u00a0 Her chapbook, There are Crows in My Blood,<\/em> <\/a>was published by Pudding House Press in 2007 and another chapbook, Happy Darkness,<\/em> <\/a>was released by Finishing Line Press in 2011.\u00a0 She lives in Seattle.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Whatever the loneliness, drawing closer The French teacher remains unemployed and yet committed to a daily excursion, able to walk past any shop, open or closed, carrying linens or sleek shoes or pears. Reading the encyclopedia in dim light, … Continue reading