The Healer

I put flies in your ears as Helios buries his
words
like golden eggs
in the camel-tossed sand,
you asked who,

I am he,
I am your man,

never resting lest I'm sure where you stand,
camel-colored women wave their prayer flags
in the air
for the victors of Akrophos have returned
fresh from killing fields littered
with dead
dealt death
by their hands,
unbutton your blouse slowly.
not half way but wholly,
where your tits fall unfettered like birds let them stand,
I am the healer who must rest hands on the damned,
you asked who,

I am he,
I am your man.

TA