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Carousel by Simon Perchik


While still in one piece, each horse—half blind,

half bewildered—is led around

by the acid taste in your mouth. The music

needs work too, though victory is hiding

in the yells. This pop-up carousel

knows only the sounds left as dust

from the cavalry that will arrive with the tug

some child is given by touching another's head

with their own—comes to this park

where the sky expects its sunlight to leave

as the shrieks not yet in place,

and only the hooves are still in mid-air

the way death offers its arm, adds its weight

without turning around—lets you mount from a bench

that lowers your forehead closer to the grass.


SIMON PERCHIK is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, Forge, Poetry, Osiris, The New Yorker and elsewhere. His most recent collection is The Reflection in a Glass Eye published by Cholla Needles Arts & Literary Library, 2020. For more information including free e-books and his essay “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities,” please visit his website at

To view one of his interviews please follow this link:

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