Just by reaching in—this sore…

Just by reaching in—this sore
is heated though your arm
covers it the way moonlight

can’t hold on any longer
lets some hillside pour over it
and mornings too grow huge

count the nights from so far off
and each other—you collect
enter each room deeper and deeper

careful not to shake the walls
—on tiptoe so nothing falls
takes root bent over a table

warmed by these small rocks
to follow you, shut half by the stench
half on their own, one by one.

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 http://www.simonperchik.com.

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