*
This field has so many lips
and though the fire is out
these clouds still darken –each breath
overflows with icy streams
and stones left out to dry –it’s natural
for a sky to let itself in
the way your shadow on impulse
looks down and in the open
grieves with the only mouth it knows
–you’ve done this before, her grave
rubbed between your hands
and the one wish more, each time
the mist along the edge
falls off in flames, becomes
on and on no other place to go
unrolls this gravel path
still counting on your fingers
sure its hunch is right.
_______________
Simon Perchik
Review by Laurinda Lind
This poet and I must have the same taste in literary journals, since we submit to so many of the same ones. Of the poems here, this one in particular seems a good example of the way he uses surprising language to convey his themes/ settings/ emotions. Almost every line does not go the way you expect it to go, but the composite is moody and insightful.