I promised two Gylys poems a day, so here it is:
HANDS FULL OF NOTHING
The hotel lobby, a one-legged man
flops down next to me. I’m so tired
I could curl beside the fountain,
Cupid in its center, vomiting green water.
You were just on the phone, saying,
I’d like to kneel down in front of you,
my tongue between your. . . If I were there,
you wouldn’t even take me out
to get a sandwich. The one-legged man
makes his living playing bass. His laugh
sounds like a horse. I close my eyes.
I’d like to . . . If I were there, you wouldn’t even
meet me for a drink. Why do I call?
Here by nine, I drove through the night,
sunroof open, the sky a pincushion of stars.
To stay awake, I kept reaching up my hand
to grab, one more time, a fistful of wind.
~ Beth Gylys
Spot in the Dark, Ohio State University Press (2004)