The Meadow 2013 Literary and Art Journal - page 9

Meadow 9
*
by Simon Perchik
The door knows why it opens
and still you’re not used to it
could be a sound from the 40s
gutting this radio
the way all skies darken
fill with distances
—you listen for the slow turn
the Earth never forgot
though a hidden crack
keeps the room from exploding
and costs you nothing
has already started its climb
spreads out —with both arms
you begin to crawl
and not yet an old love song.
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