Eileen Myles, p.1




I bet
you painted
those
so they
would look

high
it’s
all color

I know they’re
tethered to
the orange
sky

you would
scrape across
an inch
of blue

a wild
crew cut

of mowed hair

This is Herring
Cove tonight

my dogs are
mad the
young one

is because
we’re not

on the sand
we’re inside

I want to
explain
it’s very

important

I smoke

something

I stutter
excuses

the sky
is brown

with orange

it’s growing
more desperate
as I write

the winds
are almost
gone it’s

pure feeling

color, sky

dog cry