Spring 2011, Volume 10

Poetry by Simon Perchik

Between This Screen and the Spider

Between this screen and the spider
licking its web, moist, caressed
kept whiter than usual—for no reason
these cellar walls were painted white
—each brushstroke as in the evenings
a sadness just hangs from the window
and you try something somewhere
—your fingers damp, empty, smell
from light and the silence and the window

—the spider blacker than all at once
what the sun must weigh
if you could for once hold on
and your arms quivering, almost snap.
—all at once your breath
caught in the pipes and wiring
and nothing can save it—it will be years
before the screens come down
and slowly, bitterly you will say
the window is open.



BIO: Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The New Yorker and elsewhere. For more information, including his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities” and a complete bibliography, please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.