Stonecoast Review Issue 5

Untitled Poem

Written By: Simon Perchik

Row after row
—it’s your usual vineyard
overrun the way mourners

will always lean too far
are already in clusters
holding on to a stone

as if a sharper knife
could fall through
and deep inside each vine

leave no one to walk past
though you come for work
with wobbling fingers

that no longer make you sad
—you pluck each pebble
trying not to touch the dead

show up as if they
would never let you leave
with nothing in your mouth

except as some seedling
just planted and on your lips
the dirt is somehow sweeter

growing itself into arms
and legs and kisses, by now
even in winter the stars.

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, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at simonperchik.com.