A hundred Per Cent
By Eileen Myles
I would like
a century
a tree
grows slow
a crack
of light
hits my palm
while I’m
reading
I grab
to take
a picture
& the crack
is gone
branches
pouring
out of my
hands
days has made
its mark
I have
wind
swept
hair I think
of my step
brother
who I knew
more
like this
his face
a photo
graph
on a beach
on a
book &
when he died
I was
family
watching
a tree in
the wind
& I wanted
to speak
to him
who was
truly my
brother
that speck
of light is gone
on my
hand and
him. I told
her I’d probably
like to
end here
like my com
puters
do & my
dog did. I took
a chance
w horrifying
her. I’m
shooting
for this
love where
I live. See
me dying
now or running
across
the beach
to catch
the tree
book
cover in the end
of summer’s
wind. The ocean
is a feast
& it’s here
I bring my
water tree book
feet, taste
branches
the lot that
is me
who wants
a century.
