[This slope broken loose], Simon Perchik


This slope broken loose
cracks the way all ice
rises from a single stone
though below the tree line
just her grave
already has a twin
–two mouths, easy to spot
not yet the mountain range
she would sip if it was water
could leave the hollow
the underbrush, mouthful
over mouthful, talk
sit across from you
while her words no longer move
are in the way and colder.

Simon Perchik

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