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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