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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.

L. Ward Abel

L. Ward Abel

L. Ward Abel, poet, composer, teacher, retired lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, and is the author of one full collection and eleven chapbooks of poetry, including Jonesing For Byzantium (UK Authors Press, 2006), American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Cousins Over Colder Fields (Finishing Line Press, 2013), Little Town Gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), A Jerusalem of Ponds (Erbacce-Press, 2016), Digby Roundabout (Kelsay Books, 2017), and The Rainflock Sings Again (Unsolicited Press, 2019).
L. Ward Abel

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