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This apple still warmTo Simon Perchik's previous piece

Where is the poison
that these crossbones :the chainlink fence
and its gate opens --no one
though the guard still writes names on a list
--he doesn't ask anymore.

He knows I will run at the fence
shaking it with the cries
that can't fall through
that separate :tears that stop at stone
--he knows I will kneel
though there is no cheek to touch

must know why I come, my stench
carried off on his lungs
and I rattle this fence as if its bones
could find the skulls
grow back their voices

and fingers once the Furies
would have clasped, their dreaded rust
avenge and my blood too
tighter and tighter reeks
an invisible name
an emptied sun, a no one.

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