Rich Kuslan '79
A flashback is a
shard of glass
swept up on a beach
of thought, lays
buried there
amid the sea grass:
sea glass, smoothed
by breakers.
The eye of Zeus
winks, a glint
through sunlit squint.
Leda bends and picks
with palsied
clasping hand,
gingerly upholds
to light: treasure.
The world stops.
"You, I shall make hang
as jewelry!"
Once it cut chasms
in her flesh.
Now blunted,
tumbled in flotsam
in whirlpools
of centuries,
it dangles, sparkles
harmless and pretty,
buffed, ashine.
The past, which is past,
was not past
but is past.
She has made it her now,

-2017 Chapbook

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