Mark Terry, “First Look,” n/a, Noble Hill Anagama
*
And though you dread the mail
this note is used to her arms
folding over your eyes
brushing aside the dust
that’s unimportant now
–you can’t make out the name
floating up as salt, empty
with some small sea beginning
clings the way every envelope
is carried along, half evenings
half sinking back into darkness
and word after word while they last.
__________________
Simon Perchik