Author: Louise Gluck

At the end of my suffering There was a door. Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. […]

Long ago, I was wounded. I lived To revenge myself Against my father, not For what he was For what […]

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know What despair is; then Winter should have meaning for […]

What does the horse give you That I cannot give you? I watch you when you are alone, When you […]

A man and a woman lie on a white bed. It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On […]

Requiring something lovely on his arm Took me to Stamford, Connecticut, a quasi-farm, His family’s; later picking up the mammoth […]

How can you say Earth should give me joy? Each thing Born is my burden; I cannot succeed With all […]

I regret bitterly The years of loving you in both Your presence and absence, regret The law, the vocation That […]

Remember the days of our first happiness, How strong we were, how dazed by passion, Lying all day, then all […]

In our family, there were two saints, My aunt and my grandmother. But their lives were different. My grandmother’s was […]

The garden admires you. For your sake it smears itself with green pigment, The ecstatic reds of the roses, So […]

As a man and woman make A garden between them like A bed of stars, here They linger in the […]

When I made you, I loved you. Now I pity you. I gave you all you needed: Bed of earth, […]

Even now this landscape is assembling. The hills darken. The oxen Sleep in their blue yoke, The fields having been […]

In your extended absence, you permit me Use of earth, anticipating Some return on investment. I must report Failure in […]