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Simon Perchik

This branch climbs past you
the way a breeze spreads out
warmed by roots and feathers


–that’s why when you look down
the fruit changes its colors
sweetened with leaves and eyes

that are all alike though the tree
no longer feeds on slower trees 
or regrets the choice it made


–its wood still rises, is sure 
water will come and wings 
still possible, not yet too heavy 

from after so much death
so much dirt to shade
and already underway.

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