Simon Perchik 2

To hold on you make a boy from paper

pin the snapshot up so its dampness

keeps the eyes from closing̶ reach around


and though this gesture stops mid-air

it presses against his chest till the wall

spreads over the Earth as an early map


where every stream becomes your fingertip

comes to an end in a dried riverbed

whose bottom stones are sentences, talk


tell you why they too no longer move

are hiding from something still reaching out

that is not your arm waiting to be bandaged.


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