Post Road Magazine #17


I fed myself on white despair,

grew thin and hard and pale. The trees

at long last flowered, but I return

to that familiar alley and

I stand alone against the beast

as though it were the final hour.

The first dream came to me through gates

of ivory, the second through

gates made of horn. Please send the debt-

free days to us. I will believe.


Painting: Invasion (Copse), 2005, Oil on panel, 36" x 48" - Astrid Cravens
Poem: Zero to the Bone - Lacy Schutz

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