MY LIFE BEFORE DAWN

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Sometimes at night I think of how we did

It, me nailed in her like steel, her

Over-eager on the striped contour

Sheet (I later burned it) and it makes me glad

I told her—in the kitchen cutting homemade bread—

She always did too much—I told her Sorry baby you have had

Your share. (I found her stain had dried into my hair.)

She cried. Which still does not explain my nightmares:

How she surges like her yeast dough through the doorway

shrieking It is I, love, back in living color

After all these years.

（poems 1962-2012，Louise Gluck）