His Image
By Richard Dinges, Jr.

No, I did not say they
could take my picture,
as if the reflection of light
from wide eyes is freedom
guaranteed in printed
block words on a piece
of parchment burned long
ago by a priest with sweat
on his brow, blood on his
hands, and the hint of sin
smeared in glistening fat
from his lips that he licks
with a tongue turned purple
by communion wine.
No one took his picture.
I want the way I looked
returned to me. But no one
listens. They just pass
photographs of stolen
moments in time, pretending
they can share history
and live together in memory,
while all along they slip
away on this languid
stream of time.

I have an MA in literary studies from University of Iowa and work at an
insurance company as a business systems manager. Words of Wisdom, Sow's Ear
Poetry Review, Meridian Anthology, The Distillery, and The Cape Rock have
most recently accepted my poems for their publications.