Even now this landscape is assembling.
The hills darken. The oxen
sleep in their blue yoke,
the fields having been
picked clean, the sheaves
bound evenly and piled at the roadside
among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises:
This is the barrenness
of harvest or pestilence.
And the wife leaning out the window
with her hand extended, as in payment,
and the seeds
distinct, gold, calling
Come here
Come here, little one
And the soul creeps out of the tree.
Louise Glück was born in New York City in 1943 and grew up on Long Island. She attended Sarah Lawrence College and Columbia University. Considered by many to be one of America’s most talented contemporary poets, Glück is known for her poetry’s technical preci…
View profile & all 31 Poems / StoriesYou re stepping on your father, my mother said,and indeed I was standing exactly in the center
Reading what I have just written, I now believeI stopped precipitously, so that my story seems to have been
I said you could snuggle. That doesn t meanyour cold feet all over my dick.
I was trying to love matter.I taped a sign over the mirror:
1Child waking up in a dark room
