Simon Perchik’s most recent poem to appear here was “This path could be its echo” (June 2017)

And though the stars came by
what you hear stays wet
for your hands on the rope

waiting till it’s dark—you hang the wash
at night, sure the clothes will dry
—by morning you’ll fill the tub again

with her dress and stir
till the water turns black
smells from sleeves

and the same shoulders
that were always there
with grass that you add later.