breaking into the furious hum
bugs use for melting snow
–there’s no interest in romance
though every winter now
is warmed, takes hold your hand
by brushing against the dirt
risks its place to lure you, naked
in front the house, her breasts
surrounded and across your tongue
a lingering darkness welcomes them
knows nothing why your fingers smell
from avalanche and salt
and never had that taste for sweets
moving mouth to mouth
snatching things up, louder and louder
certain this frost is frost, named
so soon after its birth and yours.
Author Bio:
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Poetry, Osiris, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013). For more information, including free e-books, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.