issue 24 > poetry > cabral

Here a world
of mysteries
immune
to microscopes.

Here a world
of walls
no machine can breach.

Here a night
opaque and spare
of stars.

Here eyes
enclosed
in folds and shadows.

Here a waiting room:
the bitter weight as we await
our fate.






Also by Astrid Cabral:

Ephemeral
Sign or Prop
Bones or Stars
The Last Moment
Between Gardens
Hills and Mushrooms