Simon Perchik is an attorney who lives in East Hampton, N.Y. His poems have appeared in Partisan Review, Forge, 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.
*
Again your shadow loose in the attic
as if more light could help
coming for old letters, broken frames
not sure what was torn apart
has healed by now, hidden
as sharp corners though you
still expect the some days
to climb alongside and the height
save them –it’s storage work
later work –Esther and you
on a pony that almost remembers the dust
it carried all the way down.
**
Everywhere at once, aimless
though the day lilies
no longer make a sound
are used to how the sun
can still be found in moonlight
that has no rain left to comfort
with warm stones and the mist
that is now your heart
is circling night over night
*
Again your shadow loose in the attic
as if more light could help
coming for old letters, broken frames
not sure what was torn apart
has healed by now, hidden
as sharp corners though you
still expect the some days
to climb alongside and the height
save them –it’s storage work
later work –Esther and you
on a pony that almost remembers the dust
it carried all the way down.
**
Everywhere at once, aimless
though the day lilies
no longer make a sound
are used to how the sun
can still be found in moonlight
that has no rain left to comfort
with warm stones and the mist
that is now your heart
is circling night over night
as some giant red cloud
listening for the scent
from when a flower held your hand
too long and the calm
that has its fragrance :your echo
faint from waving goodbye.
***
Not yet feathers though you
still breathe in the smoke
trailing from some climbing turn
hidden by clouds and weightless
circling this tree allowed at last
to shed its bark, warmed
the way each leaf expects
a better life somewhere, takes hold
with its wings around the Earth
carried up hillside over hillside
spurting more and more blood
from your eyes, your ears
till their shadow flies from under you
escapes this time, hovering overhead
as branches and evenings
listening for the scent
from when a flower held your hand
too long and the calm
that has its fragrance :your echo
faint from waving goodbye.
***
Not yet feathers though you
still breathe in the smoke
trailing from some climbing turn
hidden by clouds and weightless
circling this tree allowed at last
to shed its bark, warmed
the way each leaf expects
a better life somewhere, takes hold
with its wings around the Earth
carried up hillside over hillside
spurting more and more blood
from your eyes, your ears
till their shadow flies from under you
escapes this time, hovering overhead
as branches and evenings
and further though their roots
come by to remember why this sky
ended its wandering and closed.
come by to remember why this sky
ended its wandering and closed.
~Simon Perchik
