Peter Leight ~ Three Poems

Entrance

When it’s time to enter
I’m stand­ing in line
stand­ing and wait­ing in line
I don’t even know if I’m entering
or wait­ing to enter
is it eas­i­er to enter
when you don’t even know
if you are?
Sometimes I think it’s bet­ter to back up
or look around the back
as if it’s a his­tor­i­cal entrance
that’s behind me
Of course there are things that need to happen
before any­thing else can happen
When I ask the per­son in charge to let me in
he isn’t even letting
he doesn’t notice me
it’s true notice is constructive
even when it’s not actual
Maybe he’s wait­ing to be paid
or there’s a pay­ment that needs to be made
there are things that only happen
after some­thing else has happened
I don’t even know if the person
in charge of entering
is the per­son in charge of payments
If you fol­low the money
fol­low­ing the mon­ey trail
you end up right in front
of the entrance
as in a per­son­al entrance
nobody else can enter
If it costs too much
hon­est­ly there are prices
we can’t even pay
even when there’s no oth­er way
to enter I don’t think the per­son in charge
of enter­ing is the per­son in charge
of oth­er ways in

~

Down

I’m keep­ing my head down
Under the level
Of the light
Like a kind of marination
Downloading Gustav Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony
You shall rise again my dust
I think I’ll turn down
The vol­ume and make some friends down
Here who don’t think I’m fucked up
Not even sit­ting down
Or brush­ing the dust
Off my scalp
Is it bet­ter to have some­thing you can’t put down
Or to put it down?
I often think I’m under-compensating
When I drop under the level
Of the light
Like a smooth landing
When you don’t feel the down
Draft or the touchdown
For instance
Personally I’d like to have some friends down
Here who actu­al­ly call back
Why can’t we be inseparable?
As long as I’m wait­ing down
Here togeth­er with the dust
On the bottom
I’m keep­ing my head down
Not even leaving
Evacuation is hard­ly ever the answer

~

As Long As My Life Is Empty

I’m not even projecting
As in a dri­ve in
Not look­ing for anything
To put away
When I need to clean up
I’m wip­ing my hands on each other
Not keep­ing anything
In my head
Even if it’s not some­thing I care about
Like a kind of appre­ci­a­tion that isn’t attach­ing to anything
If you think about the emptiness
In your own life
What are you actu­al­ly think­ing about?
I’m not talk­ing about cut­ting anything
Or cut­ting myself off
That’s not what I mean
If I’m hold­ing on to my head
It’s only because I don’t want to drop anything
That belongs to me
Doesn’t it?
Sometimes I think there’s absence in the emptiness
As if the emptiness
Is some­where else
Where every­thing else is
Can we please talk about some­thing else?
Not keep­ing anything
In my head
Like white lettering
On a white background
I mean there’s noth­ing to wor­ry about
Even if there’s noth­ing I don’t care about

~

Peter Leight has pre­vi­ous­ly pub­lished poems in Paris Review, AGNI, Beloit Poetry Review, Raritan, Matter, and oth­er magazines.