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Simon Perchik: Two Untitled Poems


This addiction to embrace
was beaten in, still beating
—it's natural and the urge

to turn toward the light
—we're at home with speed
with arm-in-arm the singing

the laughs sent out to become
another sun, another galaxy
and the reeling.

Before there was any land
we already knew how land
loves us, would come for us

and the handhold lift a trembling
that even today the wind
has the scent, a sweetened seawater

so long ago left behind: the rain
falling everywhere
—there's so little left—the sky

almost dry, hardly a trace
though its currents and tides
still tighten in that grip

no one has to learn.
No one learns to cry
and though our eyes no longer burn

they still warm the sea
—more and more sand
smelling from tears

—all over the Earth
one sun floating, another on its way
and it's expected we make room

gather things closer
lifting each flower
to strengthen our arms and voices.


In those four corners formed
by the wailing and the dead
—we are turned to each other

to the grief in a stone
unable to tell one hand from another
—I stroke your name to reshape

the gray light boxing in
—all four seasons calling out forever
for decay: your name now face-to-face

with the weeds that know only Fall
only those nights that still mourn
at right angles to the world

and all that's left from the sun
is this headstone, everywhere
and the long way home.

Poet's Biography:
SPerchik image Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poetry has appeared in Partisan Review, Poetry, The Nation, North American Review, Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Southern Humanities Review, Osiris, The Small Pond Magazine, The New Yorker, among others. Readers interested in learning more about him can visit his website at

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