Poetry Month

[quillori]

Gretel In Darkness
Louise Gluck

This is the world we wanted.
All who would have seen us dead
Are dead. I hear the witch's cry
Break in the moonlight through a sheet of sugar: God rewards.
Her tongue shrivels into gas....

        Now, far from women's arms,
And memory of women, in our father's hut
We sleep, are never hungry.
Why do I not forget?
My father bars the door, bars harm
From this house, and it is years.

No one remembers. Even you, my brother.
Summer afternoons you look at me as though you meant
To leave, as though it never happened. But I killed for you.
I see armed firs, the spires of that gleaming kiln come back, come back -
Nights I turn to you to hold me but you are not there.
Am I alone? Spies
Hiss in the stillness, Hansel we are there still, and it is real, real,
That black forest, and the fire in earnest.

Comments

[communicator.livejournal.com]

Thank you that is wonderful. I don't know many modern american poets.

[quillori.livejournal.com]

I must admit nor do I: this was something I came across pretty much by accident and fell in love with.