Public Republic

Simon Perchik

Photo: ` TheDreamSky

Waiting all afternoon the dark
is treated the way a parasite
dreads shells and emptiness

though a blue residue cools the sky
spreads out so its light everywhere
can run just so fast from the blindness
children still count on their hands

–at least applause! some medal
but not the sun, no stars either
–be generous! each nightfall
deserves two, one equation

clocks its speed, retells
how darkness shapes all curvature
and one to show how light
in place umpteenzillion years before
still can’t peel your shadow off
without it harder to breathe
–how much proof do you want!

I ask you, can light, even at noon
raise your body temperature
–only darkness has the youth
to reach under the ground
as if its twin were somehow
this feeble light dragged by winter
and stone –look, it’s simple

–a test, feet together, now
one bare hand to wave goodbye
–the one left over weighs more
begins to curl, becomes older
–check it out, the numbers are there

always the same durable night after night
while the flesh from each fingertip
falls back exhausted, tastes bitter
even with your eyes closed.