Thursday, April 27, 2023: L. Ward. Abel's poem "Cartographer"
L. Ward Abel’s work has appeared in hundreds of journals (Rattle, Versal, The Reader, Worcester Review, Main Street Rag, others), including a recent nomination for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and he is the author of three full collections and ten chapbooks of poetry, including his latest collection, The Width of Here (Silver Bow, 2021). He is a reformed lawyer, he writes and plays music (Abel and Rawls), and he teaches literature. Abel resides in rural Georgia.
Cartographer
I.
On the walls,
door frame to sill to
window to corner and then
again, are topo maps their smallish
lines that somehow follow shades
blended into bold edges long and
bordered with green-brown lighter
to night-like loud
whispering.
II.
I think I’m obsessed
when it comes to those maps,
resolved but not resigned
to letter forms, some with
Latin roots draping over steps,
drop-offs onto even wider plains
and smaller clustered right-angled
signs of intent.
III.
If I’ve missed something
through my focus on detail or
its other, then it’s on me—
my zeroed-in standing-back has
taken me away or zoomed me
towards, while my purpose begins
or has begun to elude or render
anything not plotted by degrees
of east west north south
as meritless.
© 2023 L. Ward Abel
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