To Edgar Allen Poe
Blood red moon casts on the mantle
and not from the dining room mirror.
Crimson shows through the great persimmon
makes the hair on the neck stand.
Huddling alone in a lack of breathing,
the wingspan is wide and black and without
walls. He is
a farmer who plants his money crop
but only after sunset.
L. Ward Abel, poet, composer and performer of music, teacher, lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, and is the author of Peach Box and Verge (Little Poem Press, 2003), Jonesing For Byzantium (UK Authors Press, 2006), The Heat of Blooming (Pudding House Press, 2008), Torn Sky Bleeding Blue (erbacce-Press, 2010), and the forthcoming American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012). A short Selected Poetry has just been released through West Virginia College of Law.