Wobbling on rocks and salt
scented with little goodbyes
–you’re drowning in wood
–don’t fool yourself, this door
can’t save you now, it’s filled
with corners still into the turn
already seawater and on the way down
a warm face though talk won’t come
is hiding in back your mouth
naked, afraid your lips will move
as the silence the dead adore
without leaving the room.
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, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at http://www.simonperchik.com.