Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-seven
Spring 2015
Simon Perchik

You grieve along this wall
once coastline, trapped
in a millions-years-old undertow

now stone and longing —each night
you draw a moon as it’s rising
and within minutes a second moon

overflows from a makeshift heart
holding on to the building’s side
with her initials face down

as beautiful as chalk and the sea
though your eyes are closed
whitened, rounder than ever

are turning into mouths
that open to say I love you
then touch, again and again

as if this wall could be silent
no longer separate you from the dead
from the salt, from the water and rocks.

About Simon Perchik

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