It takes stone though your breath

by Simon Perchik

It takes stone though your breath
heats by waiting for something to change
the way sunlight inhales, unnoticed

is floating alongside these graves
in riverbeds and kisses –stone
can save her now that the ground

has more time to count
each mourner coming by empty handed
looking for someone else

–stone! without the rush, left in the open
in a pillow filled with mountains, not yet
the one day more as a ready-made hole

melting your lips for their brightness
–every afternoon is blinded
by a stone made from wood

as if smoke could start over
and you hear a long ago name
rising out the light and emptiness.