You read out loud the way this bed
listens for the makeshift seam
loosening each night down the middle
and though there is no sun
you peel off page after page
as if underneath what you hear
are her eyes closing –word by word
louder and louder –you think it’s air
that’s falling –everything in your hands
is too heavy, becomes a shadow, covers her
with a single finger pointed at the ceiling light
what’s no where on the pillow or closer.
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Poetry, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013). For more information, please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com. Read his Untitled poem and a poem from Almost Rain.