* Simon Perchik Perchik Page 1 What chance does this moon have the way for a few hours every day not one drop makes it back, held down as the thirst that never lets go and you swallow hillside into hillside – a few hours! that's all and the moon still trying, takes from your jawbone some ancient sea half marrow, half no longer flowing through as moonlight heavier and heavier with the entire Earth backing you up when the moon is lifted whole from inside your mouth, to be returned then gather you in for the fire that is nothing without the night sky still claiming you with headwinds and rain even when there is no rain – there is not fire left though the moon never dries, clings to your lips the way this dirt drinks as much as it can and everything it touches is want – you don't have to empty all these flowers. Simon Perchik is a widely honored poet and a regular contributor to Caveat Lector. He lives on Long Island.