Empty and the sand
follows you along Broadway
as if some dampness
was left for shoreline
moves the IRT up
then down the way clammers
use their feet to rake
–you walk on tracks
careful not to miss
while the train underneath
breaks open its doors
all at once –-no, you don’t jump
nothing like that
–these shells are the same
the mad feel for
though their sweat takes the place
water grieves into
and their mouths are the same
let you yell down
and not a mark inside your body
to call you by.
This cup grows nothing
and though you add more water
it boils away, half
tighter and tighter, half
wants you to get some sleep
has become your darling
found a home for your lips
used to fever, smoke
and the slow climbing turn
that stays moist
waits for the rim to cling
left open and shaking.
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 Osiris Poems published by box of chalk, 2017. For more information, including free e-books, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.
