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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
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helma object publisher


Tuesday, 25. March 2003

April - Louise Glück


No one's despair is like my despair

You have no place in this garden
thinking such things, producing
the tiresome outward signs; the man
pointedly weeding an entire forest,
the woman limping, refusing to change clothes
or wash her hair.

Do you suppose I care
if you speak to one another?
But I mean you to know
I expected better of two creatures
who were given minds: if not
that you would actually care for each other
at least that you would understand
grief is distributed
between you, among all your kind, for me
to know you, as deep blue
marks the wild scilla, white
the wood violet.




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