"[This grave gives thanks and it’s sad –her name]"
This grave gives thanks and it’s sad –her name
hollowed out from the bone in your body
not connected to any other
though help will never come –your throat
gave up everything just to dig itself in
and yet this dirt still changes hands
empties the Earth into a few small stones
already a necklace for this headstone
coming by to make her look her best
as if you were going somewhere together
dressed warm with flowers and kisses
where your arm used to be.
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. For more information, including free e-books, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” and a complete bibliography, please visit his website atwww.simonperchik.com.