[Though there’s no leak your hand], Simon Perchik


Though there’s no leak your hand
at every turn makes the adjustment
takes hold the way this wrench

begins as mountainside, workable
picked up and the pebble dragged off
circles down, carving out her name

and from your mouth the stutter
tighter, tighter –it’s all about the water
isn’t it? a spill in that slow descent

streams still trace, first
to break apart then colder, colder
looking around at what escaped

and what was captured, taken away
to remind your voice how every word
is spelled, is stone drained from stone

struggling in ravines and for a long time
an absence that that is not water
pulling you back with these two fingers.

Simon Perchik

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