Louise Glück

the seven ages

In my first dream the world appeared

the salt, the bitter, the forbidden, the sweet

In my second I descended

I was human, I couldn't just see a thing

beast that I am

I had to touch, to contain it

I hid in the groves,

I worked in the fields until the fields were bare—

time

that will never come again—

the dry wheat bound, caskets

of figs and olives

I even loved a few times in my disgusting human way

and like everyone I called that accomplishment

erotic freedom,

absurd as it seems

The wheat gathered and stored, the last

fruit dried: time

that is hoarded, that is never used,

does it also end?

In my first dream the world appeared

the sweet, the forbidden

but there was no garden, only

raw elements

I was human:

I had to beg to descend

the salt, the bitter, the demanding, the preemptive

And like everyone, I took, I was taken

I dreamed

I was betrayed:

Earth was given to me in a dream

In a dream I possessed it

the couple in the park

A man walks alone in the park and beside him a woman walks, also alone. How does one know? It is as though a line exists between them, like a line on a playing field. And yet, in a photograph they might appear a married couple, weary of each other and of the many winters they have endured together. At another time, they might be strangers about to meet by accident. She drops her book; stooping to pick it up, she touches, by accident, his hand and her heart springs open like a child's music box. And out of the box comes a little ballerina made of wood. I have created this, the man thinks; though she can only whirl in place, still she is a dancer of some kind, not simply a block of wood. This must explain the puzzling music coming from the trees.