Mock Orange
a poem by: Louise Glück
It is not the moon, I tell you.
It is these flowers
lighting the yard.
I hate them.
I hate them as I hate sex,
the man’s mouth
sealing my mouth, the man’s
paralyzing body—
and the cry that always escapes,
the low, humiliating
premise of union—
In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.
How can I rest?
How can I be content
when there is still
that odor in the world?
“Mock Orange” from The First Four Books of Poems by Louise Gluck. Copyright © 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979, 1980, 1985, 1995 by Louise Glück. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
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A website offering fresh, original and exclusive material by writers who espouse the philosophy that “Words Matter” and believe that imagination is the seed of accomplishment.
We are passionate about the world we inhabit; Aware there are two sides to every story. Persistent in our pursuit of all points of view.
A place to think, to laugh, to shed a tear. Where words are gifts that feed the soul; ignite a flame within the heart; excite the recesses of the brain; spark passions and concerns; inspire the conscious and subconscious.
Join Spillwords for this and more…
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