Poem 75
Poem 75
Lenticular
scissors
cut.
Light
bleeds.
Youth listened.
Ancestors sipped
coffee from saucers,
talked adult,
their memories
anointing their tongues
with homebrewed carrot wine.
Those blooming days
when care free
to care was.
Blues baptized.
Jazz donated jubilees.
Three scores and ten
still tragic waves
in cosmic comic seas.
Five more are lagniappe
never promised.
Catholic rituals
chalice magic.
Capital coffins.
Chattel coffers.
Assiduous aroma
of sin, roses, and gin.
Old rural self
burning
young urban ego
like the id of a whip
lashing the dawn of night.
Mea culpa cor ad
cor
ora pro nobis.
Meticulous pyramid
pendulum passage.
Period.
Jerry W. Ward, Jr. June
16, 2018
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