Jack Gilbert/ The Great Fires
Jack Gilbert is without a doubt one of my favorite poets. I’ve read The Great Fires over and over again and find it more moving and impactful each time than the time before. His work is so moving and close to life in this way that I think people strive for a lot in poetry and is not often met. Anyway, here is some Jack Gilbert from The Great Fires for all of you.
I say moon is horses in the tempered dark,
because horse is the closest I can get to it.
I sit on the terrace of this worn villa the king’s
telegrapher built on the mountain that looks down
on a blue sea and the small white ferry
that crosses slowly to the next island each noon.
Michiko is dying in the house behind me,
the long windows open so I can hear
the faint sound she will make when she wants
watermelon to suck or so I can take her
to a bucket in the corner of the high-ceilinged room
which is the best we can do for a chamber pot.
She will lean against my leg as she sits
so as not to fall over in her weakness.
How strange and fine to get so near to it.
The arches of her feet are like voices
of children calling in the grove of lemon trees,
where my heart is as helpless as crushed birds.
I came back from the funeral and crawled
around the apartment, crying hard,
searching for my wife’s hair.
For two months got them from the drain,
from the vacuum cleaner, under the refrigerator,
and off the clothes in the closet.
But after other Japanese women came,
there was no way to be sure which were
hers, and I stopped. A year later,
repotting Michiko’s avocado, I find
a long black hair tangled in the dirt.
While this poem is not from The Great Fires- it is equally amazing
I can’t remember her name.
It’s not as though I’ve been in bed
with that many women.
The truth is I can’t even remember
her face. I kind of know how strong
her thighs were, and her beauty.
But what I won’t forget
is the way she tore open
the barbecued chicken with her hands,
and wiped the grease on her breasts
Tags: death, duende, finding something, grieving, Jack Gilbert, loss, married, michiko, Poetry, stubborn ode, the great fires