[ITS SHADOW IS HELPLESS HERE] by Simon Perchik

[ITS SHADOW IS HELPLESS HERE]
by Simon Perchik

Its shadow is helpless here
festering the way your fingers
lean over the watermarks

not yet covered with paper
though left in the open
this wall could heal, the butterflies

gently circling down
and under the painted leaves
the empty branches and wings

—you thin this paste
as if one arm works the other
till what you turn in

unfolds toward painful corners
and days without a sea
making room for you.


Simon PerchikSimon 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, “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities,” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com. Read more poetry by Simon in Cleaver’s Issue 14.

 

 

Image credit: Jeanne Menjoulet on Flickr

 

 

[THERE IS SKIN EVEN THE SKY] and [EXCEPT FOR THE NEW SUIT] by Simon Perchik

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