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*****

Simon Perchik*

 

 

Loosened from the sand
then wing over wing
till the sky faces you
lets you choose one shell
rather than another
among the broken open
once seabirds.

She's used to it
grins to please you
keep the game going
cries when you cry
just by moving closer
saved between
the umbrella and morning.

You have so many cries
so much, making room
--you empty the sun
for its ashes
that circle her
as air and the part
that doesn't cool
you use for breath

for wingspan
and unending rock
crushed the way all sadness
weighs nothing now
--she says she thinks
she found a feather.

 

 

*2012 WOOD COIN: Gender Roles in Equality: an Egalitarian Problem Issue: Perchik, “*****”

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