Two Poems


An Absence of Incarnadine


The earliest hours are the slowest hours

with an absence of incarnadine.

The memory of day
is a saffron stain.

A woman sweats,

in bra and panties

alone on a worn grey corduroy couch
listening to the sleep of her children.

Come morning,
to their expectant faces

she professes love.




Disconnected Flickers


Never does my mind
consider the disappearance of earth—

my thoughts go even further than that

a grisaille balance of stars
and starlessness

the high pitch of emptiness

and the decaying swingset in my backyard;
warped, brittle wood
and tattered canvas.

A calm has descended upon
morning grass

and the departure of small mammals
for more secluded silences—

the faintest trace of your instep
makes the world more

than a sequence of disconnected flickers
running in the direction

I suppose.











Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA, with his wife, Vickie, and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net, and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.