At a Waterfall, Reykjavik by Eileen Myles
MARGINALIA • SKIP TO THE POEM
Maybe it’s my faulty wiring, I say absently. No, you answer back.
Maybe I want to hide away from you too, I whisper softly. Not allowed, you say, conversation over.
Maybe I’m not good for anyone, I cry, almost desperate to be right. You take my face in your hands. I don’t know how this fits in the equation, you begin. But you belong to me.
At a Waterfall, Reykjavik
I still feel like
is a piece
This poem appeared in School of Fish by Eileen Myles, published by Black Sparrow Press, 1997. Shared here with profound gratitude.
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