cathedral group

by L. Ward Abel

I.

Funny the way you picture a place

never squares with the real one

—compare how towns look

when leaving to when

you’re coming in.

II.

A newer landscape shows youth

through crags and tilts and

sculptures jagged at profile

like arrowheads en route

to a wearing down.

III.

O, there is a truth, it has a name

this teeming this breathing blanket

clouded with stars spawned of

smallish light shown-through

taken from then given over

to Tír Na nÓg.

Photo L. Abel Ward

BIO: L. Ward Abel’s work has appeared in hundreds of journals (Rattle, Versal, The Reader, Worcester Review, Riverbed Review, Honest Ulsterman, Main Street Rag, others), including two recent nominations for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and he is the author of three full collections and ten chapbooks of poetry, including American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Little Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), A Jerusalem of Ponds (Erbacce-Press, 2016), The Width of Here (Silver Bow, 2021), and his latest collection, (Silver Bow, 2023).  He is a retired lawyer and teacher of literature, and he composes and plays music (Abel and Rawls). Abel resides in rural Georgia.