Four Poems
through my eyelids
yellow wall
of sun was I
in the drawing room
from the book
turning
my head this way
on instruction
from
voice or light
the flower growing
part begonia
my left jaw
throbbing
I was propped on
something
an impression
lying like some
incline
above the autumn lake
beside a bush
caught the sun again
and opened my eye
to the map
a line of pain
from teeth
to chart
pinned to wall
I put it in mind
and placed pain
there
ceded attention
to the fingers
on my lap
tense and woven
no
to have them
tented is what
I needed
thumb
pad to pad
fingers
tip to tip
I wouldn’t clench
tooth on tooth
a single breath
I felt the sun
my eyes
closed
I was not waiting
for a carriage
it was a strike
a ‘something’ strike
everyone was saying
‘I’m sick’
‘I’m questionable’
—I get that
it’s scary
how much
we missed
anyway
that’s one thing—
take care of everyone
—it’s a ship!
lift the whole boat
right?
—good for both of you
so I sat
with it a while
I felt blank
—maybe you just say
yeah
—it’s hard to be here
it’s like
I want what
you want
—yes
or what looks good:
—yes
not the crowd
not winning
—they’re the same!
and now
I don’t feel like that
I can’t really be
there
—should we go
for a walk instead?
sure
where’d you park?
—by you
I’ve done a demonstration
where I head directly
across the lake
to the market and meet Mike
who I haven’t seen
in ages
he was sort of living on a commune
but last fall
bought a house by the river
he’s happy
now he’s trying to
commercialize that as well
he has company
what kind of company
I don’t know exactly
sometimes
he really listens
and sometimes
it’s almost like
all talk
is an insubstantial
flurry
I relace my boots
and head back out
it’s almost like
to cross the lake
you’ve got to make each step
pertain to water
yeah I read it
once
but I was young
and
unembarrassed
then I saw him
read it
and was embarrassed
for both of us
you know how when
you first get
involved
get obsessed
and neglect
all your friends
it’s not like that
any more
—I guess that’s the bar
and I don’t like
that bar
the truth is
I get benefits
the truth is
I wanted to work on stuff that
I wanted to work on
—I love that about you
okay so this might not be
right just now:
it’s so hard to enjoy
August
—there are only so many summers
yes
and it feels like
I’m staring through
the window
past
the protagonist
—all while
the real thing
is held within
—yes
held within
and looking out
Edited by Emilie Menzel and Stuti Pachisia.
The featured image pairs “Olive Trees” by Vincent van Gogh (1889) with “Canoes on a Lake” by Winslow Homer (1897) into an artwork created specifically for this piece by our Art Director, Meg Sykes.
