Simon Perchik’s most recent poem to appear here was “You begin to sweat, for hours” (April 2019).
By Simon Perchik
As if by yourself the harness
half branches, half marble
struggling to slow the moss
and around both shoulders
the crowd envies such a strength
–a fake! what they don’t see
is the iron bit that’s vaguely green
though it’s your jaws not these gates
that cannot move without you
—a belonging and yet this mold
is always in bloom, holding on
to one winter more
that needs flowers
the way all mourners kneel
and underneath the snow
look for a wagon not from wood
breaking down in front its fragrance
and where you stopped for water.
The opening line is just the first of many captivating ones in this fine poem.
Dear Simon, so happy to see another intriguing poem from you!