*

Mouth to mouth this rock

takes back that light

the sun grew fat on

 

though birds gag in it

still part their wings

not yet the ashes

 

that run through you

let their last breath

reach under you, hold on

 

till nothing’s left

except the shadow

the dirt counts on

 

--you don’t dig anymore

afraid more darkness

will escape, unfold

 

as in midair

the slow wide climbing turn

into mountainside

 

unaware how long it’s been

--you sift, lean over

the way this tiny rock

 

is pulling you closer

wingtip to wingtip

is swallowing you

 

as if one by one

its feathers had opened

--in time, in time.

 

>

 

apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3

 


24 poems by simon perchik