Public Republic

Simon Perchik

Photo: rivieragalleryartist

And the sun by a single stroke
broken into rain and forgetfulness
–you lift a child’s bat

that still has heat to it, a ball
overgrown and against this mangy glove
stumbles headlong as further on

–this attic needs more room
the bases are full though you try
to remember the route stretching out

to dry the air Vaughn will need again
but not just now –what you store
is drought, drought under drought

–your brain half rock, half
drilled for this dust all these years
falling from thirst and leaving go

–tell me, who would come here
except to climb forever, not sure
why your steps won’t go away

as if it takes all that time
to be remembered
and softly by its name.