"Perchik is the most widely published unknown poet in America....
Library Journal (November 15, 2000)
*
You fold this sweater the way a moth
builds halls from the darkness it needs
to go on living –safe inside this coffin
a family is gathering for dinner, cashmere
with oil, some garlic, a little salt, lit
and wings warmed by mealtime stories
about flying at night into small fires
grazing on the somewhere that became
the out-of-tune hum older than falling
–you lower this closet door and slowly
your eyes shut –with both hands
make a sign in the air as if death matters.
