*
Once it heals these flowers
you feel its fragrance
smoothing your cheeks
though the journals are sure
dismiss your sores –it’s grief
that’s withering, eaten alive
as rainwater and marshland
inside a common love song
bringing up your knees
already airborne around you
and with your forehead
what happened happened.
*
Whatever you soften it’s the dirt
that starts though your lips
touch down and try again
counting off the hours
just now learning to mimic
rain –in time
you will smooth the ground
better than before, for years
talking babytalk –have to
–this rain is not yet
what it wanted
and all the way down
you practice the way stones
are surrounded by dew
no longer whispers and places.
*
How you fold your hands, tin
is not what you can count on
for turns –off shore is still risky
though you squeeze this rim
the way seabirds are trained
would suddenly dip one wing
and with the other the soda
breaks apart as if your arms
were left in the open
and side to side could only guess
where you will find rest
and nothing else.
Bionote
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 box of chalk, 2017. For more information, including free e-books, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.
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