Firewomen
She put on armor
you said of a fat aunt
who hated her husband
& I think of all the big wives
slowly accumulating
resenting in secret
not at all in love
with themselves
so let’s crack them
from their casings
let them burn &
burn wild on their fuel
let their awful
husbands fear them
let them lift
their heavy hearts
flare by flare
to freedom.
Missionary’s Position, 1989
The end began in 1914,
the door-to-door missionary advises.
Look at the evidence.
Wars. Earthquakes. Sassy kids.
She shows me a picture of disco-dancing
so I fill her in about the lambada.
They’ll probably change the picture in the book.
(The Book is a different matter:
in some spots not even
particularly good. But
that’s another poem.)
It would probably be okay
between a husband and his wife,
she ponders. See, we’re not against dancing
so long as it’s modest.
I get up and fetch the baby
who is stirring in the next room.
What a sweet baby, she says.
The product of dancing, I warn.
Angry
It’s all right
to shake out
the fireiron
of your anger
once in
a while
so don’t
be shy
brandish
the bastard
around
it’s stronger
and stricter
than you
can see
& sometimes
it’s scary
enough
to sear you
into sense
Laurinda Lind feels a little chilly in New York’s North Country in the U.S. She and poetry split up in 1997, but are on again. Some previous publications/ acceptances include Antithesis Journal, Communion, Comstock Review, Deep Water Literary Journal, Earthen Lamp Journal, Far Off Places, Liminality, Mobius, Off the Coast, Paterson Literary Review, Ship of Fools, Sonic Boom, and Timeless Tales.
Bindweed Magazine 