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More poems by Louise GlückLouise Glück | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Louise GlückBooks by Louise Glück

Summer

Louise Glück

Remember the days of our first happiness,
how strong we were, how dazed by passion,
lying all day, then all night in the narrow bed,
sleeping there, eating there too: it was summer,
it seemed everything had ripened
at once.  And so hot we lay completely uncovered.
Sometimes the wind rose; a willow brushed the window.

But we were lost in a way, didn't you feel that?
The bed was like a raft; I felt us drifting
far from our natures, toward a place where we'd discover nothing.
First the sun, then the moon, in fragments,
stone through the willow.
Things anyone could see.

Then the circles closed.  Slowly the nights grew cool;
the pendant leaves of the willow
yellowed and fell.  And in each of us began
a deep isolation, though we never spoke of this,
of the absence of regret.
We were artists again, my husband.
We could resume the journey.


Anonymous submission.

Added: 14 Apr 2002 | Last Read: 20 Jul 2018 4:28 PM | Viewed: 4856 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4433/ | Viewed on 20 July 2018.
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