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Poem By SIMON PERCHIK

Poem By SIMON PERCHIK

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This field has so many lips

and though the fire is out

these clouds still darken –each breath

 

overflows with icy streams

and stones left out to dry –it’s natural

for a sky to let itself in

 

the way your shadow on impulse

looks down and in the open

grieves with the only mouth it knows

 

–you’ve done this before, her grave

rubbed between your hands

and the one wish more, each time

 

the mist along the edge

falls off in flames, becomes

on and on no other place to go

 

unrolls this gravel path

still counting on your fingers

sure its hunch is right.

 

 

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review,

The Nation, Poetry, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013). For more information, free e-books and his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.

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