Pavement of Glades
(To Octavio Paz)
written by: L. Ward Abel
The mirror shards on a pavement
of glades, each artifact a different color
from a different sky a different face
a different sun.
I need to commit to one or at least
a handful of points, each one being
its own everything, complete
but bleeding, clear but coughing,
and there is no such thing as irony.
See the violet hue of wind
in the back garden. Just beyond
I hear a tenement, vacant, noisy
as its sandy yard. The fronds
between us can wall-off ideas for only
so long, those children can rescue the air
from my old lungs, and darkness
can’t burn without making a floodlit
space. Yes, I’ve been reading again,
and each flash is a window. Where
can I go now, where can I skim
the floor of the sky, upside down
and sweating? And yes, the black-water
river knows its bank. But I’ll decipher
that violet breeze and be shattered.
- Pavement of Glades – To Octavio Paz - February 19, 2019
