Untitled
Simon Perchik
I don't let you finish without help
cut short what you have to say
the way each morning leaves its darkness
for the end though today or tomorrow
your voice will slowly fall across
as moonlight and these tiny stones
--I butt in to become your mouth
your lips, your breasts --I breathe
through you not just this once
but with tenderness --a simple sentence
stopped so you can rest back to back
standing, exhausted, commonplace.
