Casandra throws the dice.
She studies the suburban patchwork
as the ancient ivory rolls
across manicured lawns.
Sister Midnights holds vigil
in certain circumspect alleys,
then walks off with her bag of secrets.
And, oh yes, he receives the signal:
it's an arrow from the shadow
across the Bloody Harvest Moon.
The text of the most recent poetry postcard to Ivy; she acknowledges receipt in a comment posted below. An early version may be discerned in the scrawl posted last week.
It's almost Friday, and I need to generate a last card for Ivy, and a first card for Sam.
Nothing like waiting til the last minute, eh?
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