Villageidiot by Robert Arthur Reeves

ii
In the morning
the stars don’t go anywhere,
I’ve noticed.
They step back into the light
the way most people step back into a shadow.
I like to hide in the light myself.
It’s a trick I always knew.

iii
No
no
don’t ask me
what about the birds
when the weather freezes.
They’ll be there again
when it’s warm.
In between
it’s too cold to hear them
that’s all.
Shut up!

iv
When I look down the well
they always want to know
if I can see the angel over my shoulder.
I don’t think they’re right
that it’s a blessing or anything
to see stuff that’s not there
so I say no
and they take off.
He isn’t over me anyway,
he’s all the way at the bottom of the well.
He would catch me if I fell in
which is why he looks like me
but who’d catch him?
His well must be still deeper.

v
I don’t really sing
not like the choir
not with different voices
not about God
or not what they mean.

My songs are stories
of how
lately
the wind gets in my clothes
and little pieces of grass
keep sticking up
out of the tough ground

and I sing about
all the people from yesterday
(from the long yesterday)
traveling over and under
and how they’re nothing but holes
that reach for clusters
of colored light
to plug them up
but their hands go thru
(like anyone’s would)

and I sing about
all the people from today
with their noses in their collars
and black weights in their eyes
wishing nothing could touch them
any harder
than smallest
damp
of first fog
on one cheek

and I sing about
my plans for later today
to sit on a stone outside the church
when choir’s done
and sing.

vi
the snow falls
my body falls

the snow covers
sickness covers me

the snow melts
I flow I gleam

Robert Arthur Reeves