poetry by lorna wood

Mercy

Do we bear grudges? I cling to mine, though they’re not a raft—far too heavy. More like armor I never take off.

But maybe this is a house I have outgrown. Like a hermit crab, I should get out while I can.

Maybe mercy is a home that fits me, now I have done with scuttling— a dwelling light and open, yet strong, infinitely reparable,

with room to spare  even for destroyers of dwellings.

Lorna Wood is a violinist and writer in Auburn, Alabama. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming, in Quaranzine, Escape Wheel (great weather for MEDIA anthology), Coastal Shelf, After the Pause, and Poetry South (Pushcart nominee), among others. She has also published fiction, creative nonfiction, and scholarly essays. Find out more at her Amazon Author Page, here.