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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