Simon Perchik

You sharpen one hand with the other
Hercules and Love Affair by

though you’ve heard it all before
how every embrace traps the light

these dead feed on, need each grave
closing in on the others, a fireball, the sun
to find its moon in the sound

stone makes invisible when singing
in rows –you hear this chorus as a song
about coming home which means a shoreline

arm over arm emptied into the sea
starting again from the beginning
–in such a darkness you smell from salt

and longing –are torn apart on the spot
by pebbles and mountains within reach
waiting just below the surface.


About the writer:
Simon Perchik’s poetry has appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, The New Yorker and elsewhere.

Image: Hercules and Love Affair by Alex Nizovsky. Acrylic on canvas. 36 x 24 inches. By permission.