by Simon Perchik
A single charm and the air
slows though what you breathe in
is clustered with stones
falling into stones –even here
you use the ruined
to anchor between one miracle
and another –shoulder to shoulder
with no place to go these graves
are opened for stars
half coming back, half
the way your breath covers the dirt
takes hold and lifts from under.
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 http://www.simonperchik.com.
A-Minor 