Thursday, August 28, 2008

How to Love the Dead - Jack Gilbert

She lives, the bird says, and means nothing
silly. She is dead and available,
the fox says, knowing about the spirits.
Not the picture at the funeral,
not the object of grieving. She is dead
and you can have that, he says. If you can
love without politeness or delicacy,
the fox says, love her with your wolf heart.
As the dead are to be desired.
Not the way long marriages are,
nothing happening again and again.
Not in the woods or the fields.
Not in the cities. The painful love of being
permanently unhoused. Not the color, but the stain.

2 comments:

jen revved said...

fellow fan of Jack Gilbert here-- ran across your blog today. You might like my stuff. xxxj

Tsukiko F. Risu said...

Your words are wise. I feel true darkness in these words, don't let such a talent to go away. I seek the truth inside all that is unique, and your words are just the thing that inspires truth. These words are brilliant, you could become a famous poet I'd say. And that is just what i needed to read right now. Your words made me feel alot better about myself. Thanks.