Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Monday, December 13, 2010


by Steven Gulvezan

When does the clock stop?
The angry mob storms the palace
Screaming, “Bread!”
The soldiers level their guns and fire
And much blood is spilled…
I see my true love’s fingernail polish
Red upon her nails—
Her delicate white hand reaching up to me…
She wishes me to save her
But I cannot…
Though she is far removed from famine
She is dying
Of another kind of hunger
Alone, though I sit by her side
Aching with desire
To purchase
A loaf of her bread

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