swifts  &  s l o w s · a quarterly of crisscrossings

out of the sides of my eyes
Peter Leight

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I Don’t Want You to Think I’m Neglecting Anything I Need to Pay Attention To,

I’m not even looking out of the sides of my eyes,
as soon as I get up I’m making an index with my index fingers and thumbing through it with my thumbs,
together with a headcount,
pulling my hands together like a bivalve:
I’m actually paying attention to everything I can think of,
paying more attention than just about anybody I know,
it’s relaxing at the same time
it’s giving me a boost,
can you imagine?
Sometimes I think I’m not even hungry until there’s something on my plate.
I’m not embarrassed
when I’m paying attention,
not ashamed when I’m not embarrassed,
I’m not even proud of it:
I have a magnifying glass for close ups
and if it’s not close
I don’t have anything.
Pulling off my hoodie
and rubbing my eyes in case there’s a screen
or something that needs to be cleaned,
when people ask me why I’m paying attention I tell them there’s nothing to hide,
nothing at all.
When you don’t have anything to hide
you’re not thinking about where you’re going to put it
or where you need to look for it,
if I’m closing my eyes
it’s only to be able to open them:
opening up like a container or warehouse for everything I’m holding onto,
can you imagine?
There are also times when I’m paying so much attention
I’m actually running out of attention,
can you imagine?
What about paying more attention to another person than the person is paying to you?
Sometimes I think I’m only hungry when I don’t have anything on my plate.

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Peter Leight lives in Amherst, Massachusetts, about a block from Emily Dickinson’s house. He has previously published poems in Paris Review, AGNI, FIELD, Beloit Poetry Review, Raritan, Matter, and other magazines.