It’s true that the sun doesn’t move.
Neither does the moon. And only
God goes where He wants. Look,
a body weighs less in greater pull
from heavy clouds, no, soul portions
divided into orbits coming in and out
of view all combined making a mind
a rocky planet of self a sweet spot
a vantage. The cogs gather and in that
gathering steerage where space bends
and arcs, it’s then the heavens flash
of their own volition
and make the earth of us
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L. Ward Abel, poet, composer and performer of music, teacher, retired lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in print and online, including The Reader, Istanbul Review, Versal, Yale Angler’s Journal, Pudding, Indian Review and others, and is the author of one full collection and nine chapbooks, including Jonesing For Byzantium (UK Authors Press, 2006), The Heat of Blooming (Pudding House Press, 2008), American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Little Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), A Jerusalem of Ponds (erbacce-Press, 2016), and Digby Roundabout (Kelsay Books, 2017).