Simon Perchik

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Again your shadow loose in the attic
as if more light could help
coming for old letters, broken frames

not sure what was torn apart
has healed by now, hidden
as sharp corners though you

still expect the some days
to climb alongside and the height
save them –it’s storage work

later work –Esther and you
on a pony that almost remembers the dust
it carried all the way down.

Everywhere at once, aimless
though the day lilies
no longer make a sound

are used to how the sun
can still be found in moonlight
that has no rain left to comfort

with warm stones and the mist
that is now your heart
is circling night over night

as some giant red cloud
listening for the scent
from when a flower held your hand

too long and the calm
that has its fragrance :your echo
faint from waving goodbye.

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, Forge, 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