Public Republic

Simon Perchik

Photo: zedzap

I listen the way bells
widen for petals :my fingers
climbing in a circle and the sky
I thought was lost –your lips

already wings, folded back
covered with rock cracking open
and the storm-drenched spark
means nothing.

Then whisper! behind my ear
hidden, almost a radio telescope
sifting this dust for stars
for the first sound, weightless
still in the distance and yours

–I need more batteries
and though some static has taken hold
it’s too faint, some voices
are further than others :pieces

filled with fresh light, with spray
reborn from a lifeless bird

and I listen, these clouds
are already changing shape, some
beginning to breathe.