Louise Gluck




Moonless Night

A lady weeps at a dark window.
Must we say what it is? Can’t we simply say
a personal matter? It’s early summer;
next door the Lights are practicing klezmer music.
A good night: the clarinet is in tune.

As for the lady—she’s going to wait forever;
there’s no point in watching longer.
After awhile, the streetlight goes out.

But is waiting forever
always the answer? Nothing
is always the answer; the answer
depends on the story.

Such a mistake to want
clarity above all things. What’s
a single night, especially
one like this, now so close to ending?
On the other side, there could be anything,
all the joy in the world, the stars fading,
the streetlight becoming a bus stop.