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Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Poem for voting day


(Just)(Ice)



Televise.

Fear-tinted  faces flow

along the flute of glass,

depart and return

with subtle hue and cry



in the red voicing

a spider would web your mind:

prisons rise and fall.



Trapped in a trumpet

an idea tries to flee

a monotone of agency,

a failure born when



in the red voicing

a bullet would blow your mind:

matters fall and rise



behind a mirror of class

star and bar whisper

a lie birthed again

on flag-squared mappings



in the red voicing

a demon could eat your mind:

a piece of air survives.



Tell. Advise.





Jerry W. Ward, Jr.

October 4, 2016


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