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Fall/Winter 2009-10

Poetry

tom oristaglio
scott summers
cindy childress
tom rechtin
james b. nicola
debra rymer
doug draime
corey mesler
rebecca schumejda
chris crittenden
arlene ang
joey nicoletti
brad johnson
lorie allred
elizabeth kay
alexander russo
nissa lee
kenneth gurney
jessi lee gaylord
keith brighouse

Flash

ajay vishwanathan
ethel rohan
william "cully" bryant

Featured Artists
julie steiner

Steiner Interview
by Alex Nodopaka

Editors

Jennifer VanBuren
Jai Britton
Alex Nodopaka
Patrick Carrington

Mannequin Envy in memory of poet and artist Douglas Gamrath

Simon Perchik

Summer 2009

1

The same Krupp? this coffee mill
arm and neck
on orders and German engineering
and now each morning
the way marrow darkens
fresh ground from smoke and seawater

--who can drink from such a place
can touch this switch as if the trains
would stop, back up without expecting clouds
that have my nose, my eyes, my lips
sit down at the table, ask what's new.

The clerk in back the counter
is next, wants me to know
these playful mills are made
only black or white
photographer unknown
exhibit at Nuremberg trial
--talks from behind some valve
he's opening, sticks a little --a few seconds
is all it takes --I can't make out the words

--even at home, hour after hour
I listen to its motor --no water, no beans
just the blades over and over
like a plane trying to get it right.

2

This flower pressing against my palms
--celestial navigation must come easy
scanning my hands for arcs and islands

--I want to be there when its fragrance
finds where you have hidden your breasts
from the silence --it's still worthwhile
to take hold, empty this flower
follow it in the dark --don't ask me why

but before bending down
I stood on just one foot, eyes closed
trying not to lose my balance

or breath --a haphazard touch
imprinted by exploding galaxies
and I too would change course
into a scented breeze
and these dry, small hands
that live too long.

~

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The New Yorker and elsewhere. Family of Man (Pavement Saw Press) is scheduled for Fall 2009. For more information, including his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” and a complete bibliography, please visit his website.

. 2008

*
This watch already gathering
-who would imagine winter
and you are holding my wrist
listening as if the way back
would lift my arm -snow too
is sorted into stones
and not stones, into eyes
that never move -do you still have lips?

This window too will close -every gesture
resets, veers into the Earth
into a morning and the Earth
still struggling to stay aloft
-even light is collecting, some darkness
here, there, here

and the watch each day slower
-what you hear is calling for you, is the dirt
gone lame, wary, step by step
dragging a place, encrusted, lost
and the frost between two stones
held fast to accept the cold
and among your eyes.



*
Between my hands and you are preening
as stones learn to do though these waves
mispronounce your name, not sure
they're shaking off the snow

or sunlight -you are floating
and toward the sun itself
a gentleness almost white
softer than falling

and the dawn that looked so close
-you smooth yourself, getting ready
-look into the wind
that comes from nowhere

blown apart years ago
-I'm holding you up, up and the stillness
as if you were in my hands
and my hands too are missing.

Mannequin Envy no longer accepting submissions of poetry, art or flash fiction.

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