m
    o
       v
          i
             e
eileen myles
       You’re like
       a little fruit
       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.