Getting Away with It
I got this poem in my inbox this morning and it reminded me why I love Jack Gilbert.
Getting Away with It
We have already lived in the real paradise.
Horses in the empty summer street.
Me eating the hot wurst I couldn't afford,
in frozen Munich, tears dropping. We can
remember. A child in the outfield waiting
for the last fly ball of the year. So dark
already it was black against heaven.
The voices trailing away to dinner,
calling faintly in the immense distance.
Standing with my hands open, watching it
curve over and start down, turning white
at the last second. Hands down. Flourishing.
Jack Gilbert
from Refusing Heaven
As some of you may know, April is National Poetry Month. In celebration, Knopf emails out a free poem a day for the month - if you'd like to receive them too, send a blank email here.