Public Republic

Simon Perchik

Photo: exezippdf

Half jack, half when the ace
finds its way back
and the vague stomp
each time you deal a spade

–you teach the kids
dead ends and random turns
half cards, half burial grass

–you say take the risk
bet! and suddenly the black jack
will fall to your knees
and dragged out the deck

–you deal with those dead sparks
from the sun smothered by pennies
the way each night is born again
as laughter safe inside this table

hid by a milky thread
and your eyes not yet ready
for the light or if the next card
is the other end you leave behind.