a poem by Wanda Morrow Clevenger

The Sands of Jerusalem

I have never hated the sinner but
hated the cache of minor sins;
the outline of his head in the sand
-- dismissed in angry sex

we weather like people do
when what waits is zealot diehard
and everything is futile under the sun.

© by Wanda Morrow Clevenger

 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #26 ~ April 2013