Wednesday, June 8


Because I eat most of my meals alone lately, I've been reading a collection of poems gathered by Garrison Keillor called Good Poems. I read this one just a few minutes ago over a bowl of Cinnamon Cheerios. It hit me exactly where anything poignant hits you (Heart? Butt?), though I think a few months ago it would have felt more hopeful. I'll read this poem again when my life is different and the effect will have changed. It's a good poem.

Poem About Morning
by William Meredith

Whether it's sunny or not, it's sure
To be enormously complex-
Trees or streets outdoors, indoors whoever you share,
And yourself, thirsty, hungry, washing,
An attitude towards sex.
No wonder half of you wants to stay
With your head dark and wishing
Rather than take it all on again:
Weren't you duped yesterday?
Things are not orderly here, no matter what they say.

But the clock goes off, if you have a dog
It wags, if you get up now you'll be less
Late. Life is some kind of loathsome hag
Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful.
Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss
And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice,
Like a big fake garnet, in your hand.
Cranberry juice! You're lucky, on the whole,
But there is a great deal about it you don't understand.


Lynsey said...

I've been reading that book here and there for two years. I love the collection simply because it's just *good* poems by poets from all levels of prestige.

Mike said...

This poem feels like today and yesterday.