[To warm this grave its wick], Simon Perchik

Mark Terry, “Faith of our Fathers,” 72 x 14 x 8, mixed media




To warm this grave its wick
is lit the way a small stone
ignites the Earth with footsteps

brought here to become the glow
dirt breathes in, half harvest
half let go and though the night sky

no longer makes room
it still thickens –you gather
as if all stones are emptied

for their canary-in-the-mine wind
darkness alone can calm, turn back
and your arm at last on its side

folded over the other :ice
headed for winter, filled
without a past, without faces.

Simon Perchik

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