Poems of Louise Gluck
|23.||Parable Of Faith||1/1/2004|
|24.||Parable Of The Dove||1/1/2004|
|35.||The Fear Of Burial||1/1/2004|
|37.||The Gold Lily||1/1/2004|
|39.||The Red Poppy||1/1/2004|
|40.||The Silver Lily||1/1/2004|
I'll tell you something: every day
people are dying. And that's just the beginning.
Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born,
new orphans. They sit with their hands folded,
trying to decide about this new life.
Then they're in the cemetery, some of them
for the first time. They're frightened of crying,
sometimes of not crying. Someone leans over,