Simon Perchik​

 

Star by star you add a word

the way the Earth still darkens

from the bottom up, lets you hold on

 

keep it from shedding just its light

and your fingers –you write

as if this stone was already black

 

and step by step your child-like name

pinned on to become its last breath

while you steer the lettering back home

 

leave spaces for this iron waterfall

to point from under some mountainside

at whispers that no longer move

 

smothered by braids, shoulders, kisses

that are yours, oceans, winds, mornings

blacker than this dirt and lost.

 

***

 

 

These stones too steep, cling

the way the overcast side by side

lets through one star –in the open

 

you devour its incinerating light

and distances though the grass

has just been mowed and watered

 

knows all about how the night sky

stands back, erect, righteous

between each grave and winter

 

where you lean over to drink 

–always the same cold air

two mornings at a time, and choke.

Blue_Sky.jpg

THE COURTSHIP OF WINDS

© 2015 by William Ray