Eileen Myles


I come from a long line of worshippers of strong crazy women
I have been holding you
walking along the clouds that hover over the Neva
and as each screaming teakettle arrives
at a point that's clean of disease,
the moment boiled away
and as the red velvet curtain whisked
to either side
down seams of cruelty you cried
I kept sweeping you clean of meaning
and light

in Mockba
as each pedestal of the worker glistens as the trains
vanish every fifty seconds
LED agree
and spinning chandeliers of imperiality meet waning
soviation and incremental candy bar express
is on its way and the middle
range is absent. It's either the very old and singular
way too pricey, shiny stuff, or a commonplace can't be
lifted easily and in between it's
gone that's why we're here. Pushing palms
against the columns, fists empty of blue cans of gin
averring snickers and vouching for pelmany
huge moon water, voda, Da Da.

At the font of your resolution to stuff a rug in a bag
make too late dinners for no one
in the weakness & the wentness
I have been holding you
in the gentle tomboy's tears
zipping sounds, success! Only a river could take you home

zharka boots, having utterly no interest in Dostoyevksy's
being open to instant messages
being a brick in the family pattern
long ranging flight pattern
understanding vertigo but not now

realizing to take the picture
I know what gerunds are
crying through dinner very satisfying
know what else?
I know the cups you wanted were
a loving cup of lying there forever
on that train.