The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Simon Perchik
*
With just one heart and so many nights
you mistake this cane for a camera that stopped one foot from walking away reminded it to end the wave goodbye as if the trigger and flash that followed were no longer moving –what you hear is your hand clinging to this photograph the way a map unfolds on a wall to memorize how loose the corners are –you limp as if the cane was adjusted for distances, is carried too close tries to remember what happened to it. * The hand that is too heavy
once lifted planes, suns now wears a glove to a bed that knows all about darkness and the emptiness waiting inside where your feebleminded fingertips no longer can fold in then yank as if a sheet would open and just this hand make its descent side by side the warmth smelling from breasts and afternoons spreading out though now their sunlight circles the Earth as ashes –you pack this glove each night the way a brace is locked in place to hold on, take root without air and now you. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |