DEPARTURE by Louise Glück

The night isn't dark; the world is dark.
Stay with me a little longer.

Your hands on the back of the chair--
that's what I'll remember.
Before that, lightly stroking my shoulders.
Like a man training himself to avoid the heart.

In the other room, the maid discreetly
putting out the light I read by.

That room with its chalk walls--
how will it look to you I wonder
once your exile begins? I think your eyes will seek out
its light as opposed to the moon.
Apparently, after so many years, you need
distance to make plain its intensity.

Your hands on the chair, stroking
my body and the wood in exactly the same way.
Like a man who wants to feel longing again,
who prizes longing above all other emotion.

On the beach, voices of the Greek farmers,
impatient for sunrise.
As thought dawn will change them
from farmers into heroes.

And before that, you are holding me because you are going away--
these are statements you are making,
not questions needing answers.

How can I know you love me
unless I see you grieve over me.


**this is a poem from Meadowlands which featured a lot of poems based on the characters of The Odyssey, particularly Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus...this poem is from Penelope's persepective and just really spoke to me when I came across it last night.

untitled

there is a song.
i remember the day i wrote it.
the piano faced the quilt
and the sun was on my right shoulder.

i saw two men outside
with two infants
in the little kangaroo pouches.
they seemed happy,
comfortable,
free.
i thought they were together
and had perhaps adopted the babies.
lovers and their new children.

i wrote the song then.
it was brilliant, even i thought so.
the chords so heavy.
the melody like a rocket.
i loved it without thinking,
that instant.

afterwards i looked out and saw
the men and the babies
with two women.
their wives? more likely.
disillusionment can be a bitch.
most often in retrospect.

i remember the night i wrote
the alternate version
to that song.
draped in your hoodie
like a child in a collapsed tent,
smoking a black,
walking to buy a midnight snack alone.

it's funny because
the new words came so fast--
faster than the old ones.
but the old ones came from reality
and these new words were from somewhere else.
a place i could almost make out in my mind.
a place i thought i might be someday, i guess.

i came back with food.
i slept in your bed.
the new lyrics were an omen
that i didn't understand
because it was premature.

i wonder if i wrote both of them
because i loved the song that much.
because i knew i would want to
sing it forever and ever,
whether you came or went.

please

let me in on a secret.
let me in on a whim.
just open the damn door
and let me in.

piecing/peaceing

The tears you cried in preparation
were just as table salt as mine
upon discovering you'd become God
and put an end to life.

The pain those tens upon tens killed
as they fell like marbles in a jar
was greater than we knew by far.
Thank God that's over now.

A glass with the last kiss you gave
still burdened with the wine we'd aged
was all that felt alive as they
attempted to revive. Today

there's still no way to swallow
all you've done, nor understand
why if you thought you had it planned
you never thought to grab my hand.

obsidian

Salience is my sanctuary.
Something in the core
of me
is like the sun
but darker.

I move like a moth.
Stay still so long
you think I am dead.
Then light up.
Impossible to track.
Not hard to catch.
The fire goddess.

I have been more things,
new things,
since I’ve been without you.

I found the steam in me,
the calm rooted in heat,
the most rewarding quiet.
At the bottom of the ocean
I lie like a dutiful rug

until I miss you too much
and my blood is lava
and I scream up pumping through
the surface, the distorted mirror,
a volcano that I can burst out of.
For God’s sake,
Give me some air!
I can’t breathe underwater.

I chased myself
into redundancy
and turned island.
The tears I cried
were fever tears
that cracked my cheeks
as they slipped down shore.

I’m drowning in burning.
I can’t wait anymore.

retrograde

I was rather impressed with myself
when three quarters into a nine hour ride
backward in time
I realized I had yet to think of you.
How new of me.

Strapped to a blind bullet
with little distraction
outside one's own mind,
you had yet to enter mine.
I was grateful for that escape--
that such a thing exists.

Now as I drown
in this tiny mountain
covered in lights
reflecting off houses,
I relish the feeling
of being alone and knowing
I'm not really
missed.

BFF

the dance of learning secrets.
the burdens of allegiance.
oh the claustrophobia
that always
follows
loyalty.

a leak in the steel basin.
I cave in while you drain.
one day I will overflow
and they will
come to
know you.

backing up (for my sister, Julia)

Her boyfriend was trailing
and probably figured
she got a strong lead
and was already home.

But she was strapped and
sinking in, seatbelt on.
A baby left in the bath
with the water running
while mother runs
to get the phone.
Be right back.
But the lake swallowed her slow.
The bathtub ran over.

I got home.
It was dark,
and your car was
the only one missing.
You were late.
I thought of her.

The sound of your phone
ringing somewhere else in the house
pumped bitter and warm in my mouth.
I swallowed it and saw you
strapped and misplaced.
But before long,
your lights in the driveway.
Work ran over.

As this little town takes its turn
on the creaky wheel of fortune,
I will grab onto you
until my arms ache
and my fingernails burrow
in my palms.