And though your shadow just by cooling down…

And though your shadow just by cooling down
dries the way leaves bring back the dead
with not even a footpath
the snow can hold on to—cold

is how galaxies are held in
huddle weightless in the window
closest to the street, empty from the bottom
then wander off in the dark

flecked with gold :a star and its mother
still calling to the others from a window
and what sounds like gunfire
is just more snow throwing out its light

for the circling approach that guides
her shadow safely to the ground
the just above the branches
step by step torn open by their leaves
and on their back the pieces

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, free e-books and his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities”, please visit his website at

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