The DMQ Review

Sharon Hudson 2003

The Only Cure


Of course, the symptoms are increasing.
Death is sure to follow that great body of dust
swirling nakedly up and over the hillside.
The only cure: open the blinds, the doors,
accept the hand of this inevitable stranger,
charm his unsubtle course with the flute
your girl will never play again. Do not question
your faith. There is no time for the re-kindling
of such things. God has taken his stance,
silent as always; you cannot concern yourself
with intangible nonsense. There is no time.
The stranger is here, his presence conveyed
in the ghastly song of cicadas, hands and face
pressed to a breathy pane. You could train
him to be gentle, line his belly with the feathers
of a peacock. You could teach him to love again
in these haunted hours, where your upcoming
loss will kill you slightly; he is the surrogate,
    he is the only one, the only cure.


Richard C. Williams
Copyright 2003

Richard C Williams currently resides in New York City.  He is editor of the poetry journal Pierian Springs, and a graphic artist.  Some of his latest publications include: Paumanok Review, Oyster Boy Review, Jones Ave, Adirondack Review, Pedestal Magazine, Eleven Bulls, Miller's Pond, Red River Review, Three Candles, Recursive Angel, and 3rd Muse, among others.

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