This envelope never dries, her name

Simon Perchik

tightening a faceless turn
has the sky to itself

–she is still leaving, rising
thinning out while your hand
still damp holds on to a curtain

that is not a dress
and between your fingers
wasted words, wasted years

wasted you –what’s left
is a room half walls
half emptiness, half cold mist

as if there’s not enough light
to sweeten this note kept naked
covered with rivers and your arms.

Perchik photo

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Osiris, Poetry, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013).  For more information, free e-books and his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” please visit his website at

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