by Richard King Perkins, II

Dormant within a block of clay,
implausible to locate,
greyness crowds her unfashioned beauty.
She is serenity in the arroyos of California—
waiting for me to form her hands and breasts
into birds of paradise with wings of glass
that fly to me in a forlorn Illinois farm town.

Unused to the drafting of eidolon,
scarecrows and corn dolls
keep her embrazened in the town square
and watch from the street corners of pollen eyes.
I go to her in the most quiet moments of night
speaking of hermits and caves and fear.
Her patience is undivided and still.

Find out more about Richard King Perkins, II on his Author Page

  1. This poem first appeared in the Spring 2013 issue of The Lost Country 

  2. Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He has a wife named Vickie and a daughter named Sage. His work has appeared in hundreds of publications including Prime Mincer, Sheepshead Review, Sierra Nevada Review, Fox Cry, Prairie Winds and The Red Cedar Review.