Prelude for Poem 76


Prelude for Poem 76



The face challenges the mirror; the mirror, the face.

The space between has no wind, only an absence,

the given probabilities  gambling

in a vacuum of grief and alleged transgressions.



Sirens of moonset

become arrivals:

ancestors burning

signals of returning,

of unrequested volitions,

you deem, in jest,

a mystery of performing.



Are you now bereft of shame

as David Walker and James Joyce speak your name?



Jerry W. Ward, Jr.                            May 17, 2019

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