m
o
v
i
e
eileen myles
       You’re like
       a little fruit
       you’re like
       a moon I want
       to hold
       I said lemon slope
       about your
       hip
       because it’s one
       of my words
       about you
       I whispered
       in bed
       this smoothing
       the fruit &
       then alone
       with my book
       but writing
       in it the pages
       wagging
       against my knuckles
       in the
       light like a
       sail.