Eileen Myles
LODOVICO
The persimmons are mysterious;
they never get soft
I still don’t believe
these are junipers
with their lonely commentary
a guy I know standing
outside.
Up a hill zips a car
its taillights on
going to work
whole parks are empty
in the morning
silent cause everyone’s
gone to work
worse, & then I go!
But now I get
to stay home.
I like a whole long
Life of here
it’s all I ever knew
alerting you & counting
you. You who are blue,
I know the niceness
of silence. Hugged
up & tossled by dog
bark, its boxing pushing
of the silent morning
& then a bird gets
in there with
some adjusting &
a cat taps its head
against my thigh &
then settles in cat
pose in front of
a door & a porch
looking out & this
cat has never
gone out. I’ve been
squeezed into morning
& I take it. If
this is what I can
have. It starts
with the fruit that
never get old &
that’s mysterious
& next to them
are the dead.
The people who left
me this year; who
don’t watch color
the point of our
maze. I’ve got
a pinecone like
a pineapple sitting
on my table. Interestingly
I look at nothing I
bought unless you
count this house
that I sit in.
I bought this view.
The dead bought out.
Of course I’ll always
think of Heather
who leaned into
it. Such a willful
way to go. I remember
her leather coat.
And why am I standing
in June with her
family. To think boy
she really had money
& see her grave.
Heather chose to go
because of pain.
She felt chased out.
I also remember her
setting her back on
fire in a sex club.
Here’s the part that’s
insane. I dreamed
about it. Some
opportunity for all
of us to do so
to ourselves, just
for fun. It’s like I already
know fire. I know
it inside. In my
dream I said
no or changed
the subject. Because
some people get
chased out &
some people are
taken out. I’m thinking
of Nancy who’s
sick & doesn’t want
to go. I called
Bob & he said
Eileen I’m dying.
Do I say Bye.
As long as the birds
keep it up & the
cars keep curling
up the road,
I know: I’m
here. It’s a square
of a place
when the bed
chases me
awake
and that gleam
in the sky
that sweet curl
of white
says no. I’ve got
to live.