You stir this can before it opens
as the promise a frog makes
when asking for a kiss :the paint
warmer and warmer will become
an afternoon with room for mountains
and breezes close to your shoulder
though that’s not how magic works
–there’s the wave, the hand to hand
spreading out between the silence
and your fingers dressed with gloves
as if it was a burden and the brush
raising your arm the way this wall
needs a color that will dry by itself
leave a trace :a shadow not yet lovesick
no longer its blanket and cure.
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have
appeared in Partisan Review, Forge, Poetry, Osiris, The New Yorker and
elsewhere. His most recent collection is The
Gibson Poems published by Cholla
Needles Arts & Literary Library, 2019. For more information including
free e-books and his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit
his website at www.simonperchik.com.
I love this poem!
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