Louise Gluck Poems

What does the horse give you
That I cannot give you?

I watch you when you are alone,
...

Orange blossoms blowing over Castile
children begging for coins

I met my love under an orange tree
...

To say I'm without fear--
It wouldn't be true.
I'm afraid of sickness, humiliation.
Like anyone, I have my dreams.
...

There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
...

Speak to me, aching heart: what
Ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself
Weeping in the dark garage
With your sack of garbage: it is not your job
...

In the end, I made myself
Known to your wife as
A god would, in her own house, in
Ithaca, a voice
...

You want to know how I spend my time?
I walk the front lawn, pretending
to be weeding. You ought to know
I'm never weeding, on my knees, pulling
...

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
...

The great man turns his back on the island.
Now he will not die in paradise
nor hear again
the lutes of paradise among the olive trees,
...

Requiring something lovely on his arm
Took me to Stamford, Connecticut, a quasi-farm,
His family's; later picking up the mammoth
Girlfriend of Charlie, meanwhile trying to pawn me off
...