Here's an illustration I did of Edgar Allen Poe (one of my favorite writers). My husband, Steve, wrote a poem to go along with it. It was nice to collaborate. Hope you enjoy!
©Lesley Breen Withrow
Poe and Lovecraft Meet in Providence, 1909
By Steven Withrow
The Athenaeum’s doors were locked
For after hours. The idled ghosts
Of Model T’s at hitching posts
Resembled resting mares. They’d walked
Down separate steps, from different gates,
Alarumed out of iron sleep
By bells, an interview to keep,
A night’s commingling of their fates.
The Athenaeum’s reading room
Was dark, the hooded lamps lit low,
And Lovecraft, young still, begged of Poe,
“What eldritch summoning of doom,
What cosmic rite, has fetched you here?
I’d passed out, my new poem complete,
And soon awoke on Angell Street!”
He leaned in, offered Poe his ear.
The pale anachronism shook
His wild-haired—was it eyeless?—head,
A forceful gesture for the dead,
And fingered toward a black-bound book
That lingered on a higher shelf,
Its spine read Necronomicon,
And Lovecraft stood, but Poe was gone.
He’d face the grimoire by himself.