It knows nothing about the others…

Simon Perchik

*
It knows nothing about the others
smelling from feathers though you
stop inching up, tucked between

the nearest candle and its happiness
–after coming this close you’re locked
in place and continents stay dark

–it’s impossible to strike a match
as if some invisible arm went down
scraping against an oversized box

unwilling to take the chance
–so certain is this cake it makes
a second pass, open to small flowers

ones running from you at night
afraid to put on the lights, that become
cities, pieces and in your mouth

never lose heart –every year
each has a day to itself and you
blow out what’s left and motionless.

*
You let it dissolve
the way a stone falling through stone
is pulled by far off currents

wants to lay down –this pill
has to be swallowed at night, soak
and your mouth already stuttering

embraces it with the same waters
that once flared up, are now headwinds
and the claim from when the sun

reached down mouthful by mouthful
till the drowned opened their wings
were cured and rotted hulls

shining on the surface as seabirds
learning how to sing again and each sip
takes root, ends its silence and fever.

*
It’s enough –even asleep your skull
is not important here –you are alone
and the river worked up, heads out

the way each hand still instructs the other
when to come back, where to make the turn
covers your eyes as if they were her breasts

melting under the heat from someone no longer
facing you –overflows! each breath a parasite
spends all its usefulness attached to her body

and you are learning to count, one side then the other
higher and higher though the air has no lips
goes about forgetting and yet your fingers ache

as if the marrow leaking from your forehead
spills out as the man standing in front a mirror
unbuttoning a blouse, looking off to the side.