local_library Time’s Wounds

by S.D. Parsons

Published in Issue No. 4 ~ July, 1996

Time heals all wounds
those strychnine hours
festering with wasted love;
those sapphire scabs
beneath memory’s waters,
sucking life through gills
slit as thin as drug-store smiles.

You stood like angels
in the next room,
telling men of your passions,
slapping me with your fetish,
sequined pride,
keeping me tied like a favorite
mangy stray
to the long leash of your approval.

I still remember you,

Your copper ways,
drinking yourself more beautiful,
walking with the sway of bulrushs,
dreaming of those snow-flake days
when lightness would become you,
when you would fly
far from the anchor of me.

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S.D. Parsons spends the majority of his time traveling the world in search of the perfect cappuccino. A Zen Buddhist at heart, he feels the downfall of all Western Civilization can be traced directly to man's inability to accept his neighbor's God. He says: "We stand on the cusp of great understanding, but our ignorance blinds us, keeps us from seeing the miracles unfolding right before our eyes."