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Richard King Perkins II
I FELL ASLEEP—you watched me fade away—upon my return
from Canada. The dreams, nine times more real
than all of Saskatchewan, rise and solidify.
Within me, you brush against my face with your palm,
a frozen meadow, just to the north of Neptune.
We marry again, sealed by a minister of opal and snow,
acquainting ourselves with our own translucent paramours.
Like the sled wolves that carry us forward, I cannot
make myself understood.
But I give you a song, and the words of this song
require no music, need no sound.
In morning regained, I will awaken happy, unable to remember why.
The dirt of travel will still be written upon my face,
bits of time and sand
which your meaningful hand cannot erase.
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About the Poet
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. His work has appeared in hundreds of publications including Prime Mincer and Sierra Nevada Review, and is forthcoming in The William and Mary Review, Bluestem, and The Meadow.