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