Terence Paré
Act Of Contrition
Time doesn't really heal you.
At best, it will scar over.
The hurt that's true will fester
Oozing like stigmati
Unbecoming objects of veneration
Told over like a rosary
In a dead man's folded hands
Until your sorrow at the wrongdoing
Becomes the sorrow for what's wrong.
Bio
I went to Manhattan College, in the Bronx, earned a Ph.D. in English and Comparative Literature from Columbia University, which is not in South America, taught College English for a summer as part of City University's "College Without Walls" program at Rikers Island House of Detention for Man, worked for twenty-five years on Wall Street in mid-town Manhattan, and now live in Larchmont, New York on Fountain Square, which is a square and has a fountain. Previous work has appeared in Poetry, Rhino, and Mandarin Oriental. I have work in the current The Hudson Review and I am writing a novel.