Readings in Contemporary Poetry

Louise Glück


    Fish bones walked the waves off Hatteras.
    And there were other signs
    That Death wooed us, by water, wooed us
    By land: among the pines
    An uncurled cottonmouth that rolled on moss
    Reared in the polluted air.
    Birth, not death, is the hard loss.
    I know. I also left a skin there.

© 1987 Louise Glück