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.
