*
This leaf shutting down
drains as if its puddle
could speak for you
though the evenings too
have outgrown, no longer reds
or browns or face to face
the way all these trees
still gives birth in darkness
and the echo you listen for
has your forehead, scented
lulled by the gentle splash
coming by to nurse
–what you hear is the hand
hour after hour leaving your body
and this huge sea
that never blossomed
taking you back for rivers
that wanted to be water.
–Simon Perchik
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, 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 and his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities,” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.
Tags: Poetry, Simon Perchik