You climb and these steps spread out
in those rings trees still carry
under their wings
–you collect height
and at night two at a time
though the steps are chipped
the inscriptions worn away
staring off to the side
–they will be first
spruced back to life
and at the top you move the sun back
–crosswinds can’t be trusted
always on the run, raging inside
close to your throat
–you carry up the dust
the Earth turned away, step by step
this wall all there is to lead you safely
against her eyes already hollowed out
as if in all this stone
there’s no place to lie down
no room for your hand
that suddenly will open
and over your lips the stars
breathing down, count for nothing.
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 www.simonperchik.com.