Simon Perchik’s most recent poem to appear here was “These piles hold back” (December 2019). 

These blades changing course
veer the way all tears
cut off, half scrap, half

make it back as glass
—don’t let the rain fool you
or look for the edge

by coming against another
so no one can see the reeking
from engine oil and faces

wiped from between your fingers
though every breeze calls out
for caress, keeps dry

as if by itself
it could park this car
tighter and tighter and when you touch

it’s the silence that seems familiar
a curvature made from
nothing’s there, nothing’s working.