Saturday, April 26, 2014

A Poem by Richard King Perkins II

No Hour

Droplets of water on petal and sheaf
so clear that this may be the winter of ancient winters.
The air is frozen,
tree limbs so cold they cannot shiver.

Night is antediluvian--
a pomelo frog is slightly warm,
buried and nearly impossible to find,
so quiet I can hear him breathe, know his dreams.

I captured him months ago,
until he became a tadpole,
undoing time and the clasp of my fingers--
no hour will be like this again.

Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities.  He has a wife, Vickie and a daughter, Sage.  He is a two-time Pushcart nominee whose work has appeared in hundreds of publications including Poetry Salzburg Review, Bluestem, Sheepshead Review, Sierra Nevada Review, Two Thirds North, The Red Cedar Review and The William and Mary Review.  He has poems forthcoming in Broad River Review, Emrys Journal and December Magazine.

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