*Untitled
Past where an afternoon is buried, each breath
reeks from grass and though your lips are dry
they want their mouth the way it was
pressed against this pillow as if the rush
once brought kisses back to life
again and again as mountains, streams
–you don’t go dark alone, bring rocks, two
and all the while holding up the world in pieces
gathered in a room heavier and heavier, almost gone.
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.