Again the sun and I
on our way back this watch
one hour younger
and the mark where my wrist
as if great breakers tracing the sky
and in my heart each wave
sent further, my wrist
ready to snap the shadows in this watch
still rattle one after another
coming and go you think it's you
back and forth, turning around, not sure.
It's just some light broken away, an hour
to be comforted, added under you
and you hear the sea rising
rubbing your eyes you hear my arm
floating beside yours and the sun
who has so many.
Save up. One hour held tight
kept and for a while
the distance empties in the open
you can see and the arm you fill
is mine and the hiding places.
Copyright © 2003
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poetry has appeared in Partisan Review, The New Yorker, and elsewhere.
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