Public Republic

Simon Perchik

Photo: jar()

The ground so slow to heal
has yellowed though the camera
injected a faint gloss

calmed the family and friends
still afraid to move the body
-not too close! Your cheek

could scare her off and the snapshot
tree and all, left empty
cared for by the sun alone

can’t get a hold: each evening
hides in front with the small lake
pressed against her forehead

that has nothing to warm
and though the frame is wood
you shake it the way leaves

once left in place tell you
here! among the kisses
with no time to lose.