By L. Ward Abel
Matte
A white matte of clouds
as if behind wax paper screens
moves slow across the sky
like a flock in the atrium
of immense holy space—
determined
though fearful,
proceeding
though paralyzed
from events.
Foreground and distance
combine into
something
imminent, terrible,
completed.
Deadly Up
A direct hit this time.
Like a Halley’s Comet
coming in 1960 and going out now.
Twain would be proud of the old girl
made of cypress
impervious to nails.
But the river is deadly up
to a line taller than God.
The shallows breathe heavy
stripping palm trees.
The windows are all blown-out
blinds they unfurl to a sky submerged
where gulf water joins
up into the air
like being freed at last
like forever
like gone.
Shake and Flash
The plants hear thunder
feel the woods shake and flash
in those rains preceding
a warmer season
a frenzy
like the first frenzy
soaked down to essence
and the womb.
A Dove’s on the Roof
Words between the words,
a dove’s on the roof.
Clouds show ragged
and dark south of here and
no music plays from the passing
cars.
Someone whispers about secret
police, the choosing of sides, of trees
stripped bare from artillery and art
that missed the mark.
We loiter
against the posting of signs while
behind is always in the present
tense,
mindful under pouring
rain, splayed as a public
watches.
Ocean
Look how the joining
of land with sea
or its attempt
displays in loops.
Slight edges
gray to off-gray
and the point where
who can tell
whether the sea reaches up
to become
or the sky reaches down
for the other,
both bound by approaching
the immensity of planets
and blessed by
such thinness
of air.
About The Author:
L. Ward Abel’s work has appeared in hundreds of journals (Rattle, Versal, The Reader, Worcester Review, Riverbed Review, others), including a recent nomination for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and he is the author of three full collections and ten chapbooks of poetry, including his latest collection, The Width of Here (Silver Bow, 2021).
He is a reformed lawyer, he writes and plays music, and he teaches literature. Abel resides in rural Georgia.
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