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.
...

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
...

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
...

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

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
...

In the story of Patroclus
no one survives, not even Achilles
who was nearly a god.
Patroclus resembled him; they wore
...

I regret bitterly
The years of loving you in both
Your presence and absence, regret
The law, the vocation
...