You stack dried newspaper
the way every tower keeps track
where the others are – in every room
as if this clutter could darken
would guide you into the open
growing over the usual rain
and stars impossible to find alone
– this tiny apartment is held down
though the ceiling is kept invisible
in place on these maps you need
for all Norths to begin as pillars
and the way back.
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 B Poems, published by Poets Wear Prada, 2016. 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.