A direct hit this time.

Like a Halley’s Comet

coming in 1960 and going out now.

Twain would be proud of the old girl

made of cypress

impervious to nails.

But the river is deadly up

to a line taller than God.

The shallows breathe heavy

stripping palm trees.

The windows are all blown-out

blinds they unfurl to a sky submerged

where gulf water joins

up into the air like being

freed at last

like forever

like gone.

Ward Abel

Ward Abel’s work has appeared in hundreds of journals (Rattle, Versal, The Reader, Worcester Review, Riverbed Review, others), including a nomination for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and he is the author of three full collections and ten chapbooks of poetry, including his latest collection, “The Width of Here” (Silver Bow, 2021). He is a reformed lawyer, he writes and plays music, and he teaches literature. Abel resides in rural Georgia.

Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud