Lisel Mueller Poems
|1.||Sometimes, When the Light||4/30/2015|
|2.||The End of Science Fiction||6/23/2015|
|3.||Paul Delvaux: The Village of the Mermaids||9/30/2015|
|4.||Reasons for Numbers||6/22/2015|
|7.||For A Thirteenth Birthday||1/13/2003|
|8.||Five For Country Music||1/13/2003|
|10.||Reading The Brothers Grimm To Jenny||1/13/2003|
|11.||A Day Like Any Other||1/13/2003|
|16.||Why We Tell Stories||1/13/2003|
|18.||What The Dog Perhaps Hears||1/13/2003|
|19.||The Laughter Of Women||1/13/2003|
|21.||Monet Refuses The Operation||1/13/2003|
Monet Refuses The Operation
Doctor, you say there are no haloes
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: ...
For Lucy, who called them "ghost houses."
Someone was always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses wait like old wives
along this road; they are everywhere,
abandoned, leaning, turning gray.