Poem by Laurinda Lind
On the days I don’t drop dead I see the scope kept in wild vines, voles, every vein, roots, stubborn rhizomes driving deep light as it leaches under doors or the darker quiet when it comes call me a quickened clay.
Laurinda Lind lives in New York’s North Country. She is a Keats-Shelley Prize winner and a finalist in several other competitions, most recently the Poetry Super Highway contest.
