Public Republic

Simon Perchik

Photo: lepiaf.geo

As if from some hourglass this beach
slipped past last night, the wind
returning empty, its sand
laying motionless among the hours, one
more joyous than another, one more caring
one flying between these gulls
and even you are lonely

walk between the first snowfall –the air
must sense the sea it once was
–at the slightest calm
will change into clouds, into your sleep
–for hours into the slow dark
the way some movie will begin again
and the actors lean over to kiss
almost falling from the screen -one hour

always whiter than another, one weaker
one on fire and you let the sand
flow over your fingers
as if once there were l2
or 24 or someone you love
falling like water to measure the Earth
the silence and into your lips the hours.