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