Speak to me, aching heart: what <br />Ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself <br />Weeping in the dark garage <br />With your sack of garbage: it is not your job <br />To take out the garbage, it is your job <br />To empty the dishwasher. You are showing off <br />Again, <br />Exactly as you did in childhood--where <br />Is your sporting side, your famous <br />Ironic detachment? A little moonlight hits <br />The broken window, a little summer moonlight, <br />Tender <br />Murmurs from the earth with its ready <br />Sweetnesses-- <br />Is this the way you communicate <br />With your husband, not answering <br />When he calls, or is this the way the heart <br />Behaves when it grieves: it wants to be <br />Alone with the garbage? If I were you, <br />I'd think ahead. After fifteen years, <br />His voice could be getting tired; some night <br />If you don't answer, someone else will answer.<br /><br />Louise Glück<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-5/
