ISSUE TWO: "[You inhale the way this sand]" by Simon Perchik
[You inhale the way this sand]
You inhale the way this sand
is filled with saliva half salt
half doubling back, forgets the waves
no longer have a season — is forever
harvesting the rain, the gusts or boats
criss-crossing the same shoreline
while your belly drains and the Earth
swallowed whole by driftwood and longing
— you return to sand, lie down
with these small stones and pollen
ripening as if a root so enormous
would never again be thirsty
would caress your cheeks with grass
that has no other home, is thinning out
its great rivers and later on.
Photo Credit: Staff