*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.