* (And the sky by instinct…)

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And the sky by instinct
following you the way the last train
leaves for the day

though your eyes started out
as lips, took their shape
from flowers, have no problem

closing in the cold
–it’s a touch and go cold
still evolving in the darkness

the sky backs down from
and all evening, lovesick
you begin the over and over search

for stones
–you almost loosen the sweet smell
all those years left out in the open

covered by night after night
as if the first frost
was imbedded in a single stone

–you need leverage :your shadow
folded for good, empties out your arms
whose hold on the Earth

is useless now, already snow
–you need a shovel, a handle, wood
that will thrill the dead, return

not too far away and backwards
slowly behind as if the sky is exhausted
gives up, leans slightly against

so many sobbing flowers
and stones with ice lifted out
in time to hear and turn away.

Simon Perchik

Simon Perchik

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Poetry, 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.
Simon Perchik

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