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Post Road Magazine #32

Selected Poems

Andrea Cohen

The Size of It

They made oceans
big so one boat

going would seem
small. The sail

of your dinghy
obliterates the sun:

they were wrong.


Jehova

If you've seen
the light you've

seen how
bright it is,

and dressed in
Sunday's best

intent, how
could you not

climb toward
the darkest

door and not
stop knocking?



Rabbit Hole

Never move, my swell
friend Alice says, and

you'll never feel pain.
But never moving

bruises too—everything
with never stings.


Bootstraps

So you pulled
them up. What

cobbler made
those shoes

and whose
hands, asking

nothing, gave
them to you?


Pebble

I placed a pebble
where you were—

so you'd know
where to come

back to and how
hard days are.


Chair

Not there—
the easy
chair recalls
all of you
too easily.
Sit instead
in the folding
chair, the one
that forgets every-
thing—save
collapsing
when
you
vanish.





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