It's been rain and rain covered
with cinder block -against my cellar wall
I trace its nest till the moon
at last remembers where I was born
-there were two and snowing and the wall
is warmed by moonlight when I turn on my side
following, nearer to the sun
-they keep watch, a pond must be near
and a small hill.
It's impossible in the dark
in these blocks holding each other
by thread-like streams
-all their tears weighed down
and never enough light to find
my birthday scratched with a fingernail
-there's blood inside this wall.
Someone is being born and the cry
that goes around from mouth to mouth
wants to be called by the name
for cinders held together
-that first cry has two names, one
sounds like rain
the other must be near.
Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in
Partisan Review, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. Rafts (Parsifal
Editions) is his most recent collection. For more information,
including his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” and a
complete bibliography, please visit his website at <www.geocities.com/simonthepoet>.