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Poem By SIMON PERCHIK

Poem By SIMON PERCHIK

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She wraps your limp the way the sun

marks out its darkness and along the ground

pours a small circle –you’ll make it back

 

she says, writes on a pad kept open

how seabirds will call each other

over and over force their feathers

 

though your shadow too has taken on

that phase even the moon

with all its rivers and stars

 

–just two pills and at bedtime two more

which stone by stone will become

a second moon once you lay down

 

face up, floating midair, not yet asleep

reaching around the Earth

that stops as soon as you touch it.

 

 

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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