The Cup Feeds Itself

Simon Perchik

This cup feeds itself
clinging to your lips
as if each star once unearthed
already has an aroma
though it’s a small claim
and you have to fill it twice
with dirt, pour so the arch
circles back barefoot, smells
from stones no longer too heavy
let go or fingers, jaws, winds
that keep nothing for later
not this wooden table
not the wooden chair
not a word and overhead
another morning all its own.

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 Osiris Poems published by boxofchalk, 2017. 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