Poem – By Simon Perchik


Embedded and this statue

still tightening its grip

tries to revive the horse

expects its crumbling reins

to smell from leather

and crowding –you squint


the way the general

looks for a small thing

encased in a season

exactly where he left it


waits in the rain

for your black umbrella to open

make room for you

and under the darkness

hold the Earth steady


while his horse works its way

closer to this rain still wet

from the climbing turn

into ice and longing, lost


–its front hooves mid-air

shaking the stone loose

for its likeness even in moonlight

almost breathing, already

side by side that could go on

if it had to.



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

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