Issue 19




And though these stones all night


Simon Perchik





And though these stones all night

come from the same fountain

they still clear the sky


for hillsides and what overflows

they carry back as the distance

that takes forever to dry


–it must be raining inside

where every stone you hold

has slope to it, falls face up


the way once there were two skies

–that’s right! two horizons

two mornings and the sun that’s left


is still looking for the other

though in the darkness

you hear your arms folding


–even without wings the Earth

almost remembers growing huge

lit and this endless rain


has always depended on it, the rest

is lost, calling out from your hand

and even further off.










Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Poetry and The New Yorker.  His most recent collection is Almost Rain (River Otter Press, 2013).  Simon Perchik is online at SimonPerchik.com



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