[This field has so many lips], Simon Perchik

Drawing 3, Duncan Moon




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.

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