Louise Gluck

(22 April 1943 / New York / United States)

Midnight - Poem by Louise Gluck

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
To take out the garbage, it is your job
To empty the dishwasher. You are showing off
Again,
Exactly as you did in childhood--where
Is your sporting side, your famous
Ironic detachment? A little moonlight hits
The broken window, a little summer moonlight,
Tender
Murmurs from the earth with its ready
Sweetnesses--
Is this the way you communicate
With your husband, not answering
When he calls, or is this the way the heart
Behaves when it grieves: it wants to be
Alone with the garbage? If I were you,
I'd think ahead. After fifteen years,
His voice could be getting tired; some night
If you don't answer, someone else will answer.


Comments about Midnight by Louise Gluck

  • (5/14/2014 9:28:00 PM)


    An enjoyable read. Nicely done! (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: childhood, husband, summer, alone, dark, heart, night



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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