I would like references
for my tenancy
to be as bland and noncommittal –
“I didn’t know him well.
He paid his rent on time
and left the property in a fair condition” –
even a little surprised by the request,
like a small bird turning
its head or a late key change
where the melodic interest has waned,
troubled people caught in the act
of calling other people troubled,
that project a void movie
held in high regard.
The great thing is to be clear
as a doorway and, only as a doorway
can be, empty with utility.
A strange cat nudges open
the gate and waits before
it trots out a signature.
Will Eaves’s new novel, Murmur, is published by CB Editions
This article appears in the 16 May 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Israel and the impossible war