Poems 1962-2012 by Louise Glück Page A

isn’t what the vine wants.
    Remember, to the vine, the trellis
    was never an image of confinement:
    this is not
    diminishment or tragedy.
    The vine has a dream of light:
    what is life in the dirt
    with its dark freedoms
    compared to supported ascent?
    And for a time,
    every summer we could see the vine
    relive this decision, thus
    obscuring the wood, structure
    beautiful in itself, like
    a harbor or willow tree.

TELEMACHUS’ GUILT
    Patience of the sort my mother
    practiced on my father
    (which in his self-
    absorption he mistook
    for tribute though it was in fact
    a species of rage—didn’t he
    ever wonder why he was
    so blocked in expressing
    his native abandon?): it infected
    my childhood. Patiently
    she fed me; patiently
    she supervised the kindly
    slaves who attended me, regardless
    of my behavior, an assumption
    I tested with increasing
    violence. It seemed clear to me
    that from her perspective
    I didn’t exist, since
    my actions had
    no power to disturb her: I was
    the envy of my playmates.
    In the decades that followed
    I was proud of my father
    for staying away
    even if he stayed away for
    the wrong reasons;
    I used to smile
    when my mother wept.
    I hope now she could
    forgive that cruelty; I hope
    she understood how like
    her own coldness it was,
    a means of remaining
    separate from what
    one loves deeply.

ANNIVERSARY
    I said you could snuggle. That doesn’t mean
    your cold feet all over my dick.
    Someone should teach you how to act in bed.
    What I think is you should
    keep your extremities to yourself.
    Look what you did—
    you made the cat move.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â But I didn’t want your hand there.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I wanted your hand here.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â You should pay attention to my feet.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â You should picture them
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â the next time you see a hot fifteen year old.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Because there’s a lot more where those feet come from.

MEADOWLANDS 1
    I wish we went on walks
    like Steven and Kathy; then
    we’d be happy. You can even see it
    in the dog.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â We don’t have a dog.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â We have a hostile cat.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I think Sam’s
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â intelligent; he
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â resents being a pet.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Why is it always family with you?
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Can’t we ever be two adults?
    Look how happy Captain is, how
    at peace in the world. Don’t you love
    how he sits on the lawn, staring up at the birds? He thinks
    because he’s white they can’t see him.
    You know why they’re happy? They take
    the children. And you know why they can go
    on walks with children? Because
    they have children.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â They’re nothing like us; they don’t
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â travel. That’s why they have a dog.
    Have you noticed how Alissa always comes back from the walks
    holding something, bringing nature
    into the house? Flowers in spring,
    sticks in winter.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I bet they’re still taking the dog
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â when the children are grown up.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â He’s a young dog, practically
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â a puppy.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â If we don’t expect
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Sam to follow, couldn’t we
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â take him along?
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â You could hold him.

TELEMACHUS’ KINDNESS
    When I was