Gerania, L. Ward Abel

Blinds left ajar at night  

allow full-moon to cast  

          on gerania 

so that maybe the likes of  

          red and pink 

          can rise. 

 

Even a sliver of soul  

bounced off  

the Sea of Tranquility 

          might grow shadows 

          into cadmium leaves 

          or throw a prism of spray 

 

          between those petals. 

 

Under a pitch-black  

summer sky 

the fields overflow  

with blooms  

 

but inside and February 

           

          dry from our heaters 

          wet from our living 

          dark from our sleeping 

 

          there can still be 

just enough light 

          for us. 

©  

L. Ward Abel’s work has appeared in Rattle, The Reader, The Istanbul Review, The Worcester Review, The Honest Ulsterman, Versal, and hundreds of others. Ward is the author of three full collections and ten chapbooks of poetry, including Jonesing For Byzantium (UKA Press, 2006), American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Little Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), A Jerusalem of Ponds (erbacce-Press, 2016), The Rainflock Sings Again (Unsolicited Press, 2019), Floodlit (Beakful, 2019), and The Width of Here (Silver Bow, 2021).  

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