*
Exhausted, turned back –your death
never quite buried here
and inches down still struggling
the way the mist clings to you
as water older than sunlight
though there’s no need for shade
and over your throat the row by row
not yet thirst and constant waterfall
–try! with a single mouthful
the same stone the Earth still grows
to feed you dead your only chance
left upright, for keeps and behind
smelling from fruit and branches
within reach –a sip, a rock
broken off one root with another.
*
Through every bone and gnaw
as if it still has feathers
is flying into their last song
the way all descent now
begins by rippling overhead
closer than the restless drone
that would become your heart
and sunlight, louder and louder
devouring the Earth whole
–you chew on engine sounds
already those same shadows
that end in the terrifying shape
used to this day for plates
rounded so nothing falls off
except wings and branches
and these tiny stones you eat
from the forehead spread across
to dry your hands and remember.
*
Even with glasses and fingers
each word starts out blurred
and whatever drifts slowly past
before the envelope closes
weakened by saliva and thirst
–you play it safe, try drops, one
for each eye as shoreline, heated
by blankets and salt –you cling
to a dampness older than sea water
nursing drop by drop
till nothing, nothing –a rain
with no one to take hold.
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 The Osiris Poems published by boxofchalk, 2017. For more information including free e-books and his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com. To view one of his interviews please follow this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSK774rtfx8
Exhausted, turned back –your death
never quite buried here
and inches down still struggling
the way the mist clings to you
as water older than sunlight
though there’s no need for shade
and over your throat the row by row
not yet thirst and constant waterfall
–try! with a single mouthful
the same stone the Earth still grows
to feed you dead your only chance
left upright, for keeps and behind
smelling from fruit and branches
within reach –a sip, a rock
broken off one root with another.
*
Through every bone and gnaw
as if it still has feathers
is flying into their last song
the way all descent now
begins by rippling overhead
closer than the restless drone
that would become your heart
and sunlight, louder and louder
devouring the Earth whole
–you chew on engine sounds
already those same shadows
that end in the terrifying shape
used to this day for plates
rounded so nothing falls off
except wings and branches
and these tiny stones you eat
from the forehead spread across
to dry your hands and remember.
*
Even with glasses and fingers
each word starts out blurred
and whatever drifts slowly past
before the envelope closes
weakened by saliva and thirst
–you play it safe, try drops, one
for each eye as shoreline, heated
by blankets and salt –you cling
to a dampness older than sea water
nursing drop by drop
till nothing, nothing –a rain
with no one to take hold.
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 The Osiris Poems published by boxofchalk, 2017. For more information including free e-books and his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com. To view one of his interviews please follow this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSK774rtfx8