David M. Alper

Imperceptible Matters

A bullseye rash spreading on the scalp of a prom queen adorned with roses and Lyme disease.

Ticks clinging to the belly fur of a Siberian husky.

Trapped in our lungs, viral particles that T-cells cannot identify.

My aunt on the day she passed away.

Not even a single kind word.

The moments I attempted to assist her but was unsure of what to do.

A layer of radioactive dust settling on an eye many years after a nuclear accident.

Skin pierced by a rat’s tooth while an entire family slept.

Something gathering there.

Interplanetary rumors.

The publication you were denied for the third consecutive year.

Tainted by a comma splice, a rejected job application letter.

The only native marsupial in New York wandering in your neighbor’s yard.

A woman burdening her pockets with stones as she walks towards the river.

The sensation when passing a beggar who shakes his cup.

Reaching inside, finding no spare change.

About the Author

David M. Alper’s forthcoming poetry collection is Hush. His work appears in Variant Literature, Washington Square Review, Oxford Magazine, and elsewhere. He is an educator in New York City.