*

It never begins, you

 

*

And the gust that circles these graves
 

*

Just below the surface one arm

 

*

Together with your knees

 

*

As if this dirt can't overflow

 

*

And the Earth leans against you

 

*

This shadow half iron, half

 

*

You wash this floor the way winter

 

*

The rain climbing along your wrist

 

*

You must enjoy the risk

 

*

You mourn the way this sand

 

*

You have this kinship, the limp

*

The dead the snow hold back

*
One hand held out --you expect

*

What a strange crop :the smell

 

*

From the same glass

 

*

These waves still surface, not sure

 

*
This wall and sunlight

 

*

Between these graves and every Sunday

 

*

You come by though the hole

 

*

Row after row

 

*

Mouth to mouth this rock

 

*
Already weightless these steps

 

*

With its feeble hold this hillside

 

apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3


Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The New Yorker, Black Warrior Review and elsewhere. Readers interested in learning more about him are invited to read Magic, Illusion and Other Realities at www.geocities.com/simonthepoet which lists a complete bibliography.

24 poems by simon perchik