Siren

Louise GlückLouise Glück22 Apr 1943

1 min read · 12.5K reads

I became a criminal when I fell in love.
Before that I was a waitress.I didn't want to go to Chicago with you.
I wanted to marry you, I wanted
Your wife to suffer.I wanted her life to be like a play
In which all the parts are sad parts.Does a good person
Think this way? I deserveCredit for my courage--I sat in the dark on your front porch.
Everything was clear to me:
If your wife wouldn't let you go
That proved she didn't love you.
If she loved you
Wouldn't she want you to be happy?I think now
If I felt less I would be
A better person. I was
A good waitress.
I could carry eight drinks.I used to tell you my dreams.
Last night I saw a woman sitting in a dark bus--
In the dream, she's weeping, the bus she's on
Is moving away. With one hand
She's waving; the other strokes
An egg carton full of babies.The dream doesn't rescue the maiden.
Louise Glück
About the poet

Louise Glück

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…

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