Heals All Wounds
I want to write poems
about moments
that I can’t quite recall
because the flashes
of memories
that still remain
make it seem
like those
were the good old days
I rarely, if ever, asked questions in class.
I knew the answer would surface soon enough.
5,000 years later … (everything will make perfect sense)
As for now, get high on the blood of the future.
Sacrifices always have to be made;
though it needn’t be your soul that gets sold.
Copies of Happy Hour Hallelujah are now available here through CTU Publishing.
17Numa 