Thursday, October 08, 2020

Louise Glück: Matins


You want to know how I spend my time?
I walk the front lawn, pretending
To be weeding. You ought to know
I’m never weeding, on my knees, pulling
Clumps of clover from the flower beds: in fact
I’m looking for courage, for some evidence
My life will change, though
It takes forever, checking
Each clump for the symbolic
Leaf, and soon the summer is ending, already
The leaves turning, always the sick trees
Going first, the dying turning
Brilliant yellow, while a few dark birds perform
Their curfew of music. You want to see my hands?
As empty now as at the first note.
Or was the point always
To continue without a sign?

I presume a four-leaved clover is the "symbolic/ Leaf" Glück is looking for here? Here's At's hand holding some luck he made himself: A four-leaf clover engineered with spit--he told me he tried sweat first, but it didn't hold. (circa 2008, SD's outdoor wedding in DC; Baby Nu in the stroller.)

I've loved this poem for years and am so happy for Louise Glück's Nobel--poets so rarely get big prizes; but are there non Eurocentric writers who are being overlooked? Absolutely.

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