Post Road Magazine #17

What dormant carnival do I pass through

at dawn? Air redolent with frying dough

and cinnamon, strong coffee, horse manure.

My dew-wet clothes hang heavy from my frame.

I trudge forsaken fairgrounds. Lights tremble

beneath the fog. I'm weary, chilled all through

and looking back across the midway as

the shipwrecked sailor gazes from the shore

toward the sea that almost drowned her. I'm

compassionate. I am bewildered. Sword

and scepter, crow, please pass me by. When I

look up I'll see the raven and recall

this thing forever 'til tomorrow. What

could have shaped us but a swarm of bees?

And I am not ready, Lord. Not ready.

Painting: "What Carnival...,", 2005, Inks and casein on paper, 14" x 10" - Astrid Cravens
Poem: "Descend, so that you may ascend." - Lacy Schutz

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