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 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.
And though this stone is small
it has more than the usual interest
in the dead, waits among tall grasses
and water holes, smells the way dirt
still warms the afternoons
that no longer have a place to stay
–you leave a nothing in the open
letting it darken to remember
where you buried the Earth
as if the sun could not be trusted
to take back in its light
and by yourself turn away.
[image: Grass and River Rock | Todd Friedlander]
Quite a lot of turns in this poem and I followed them all.
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