Thursday Poem

Attention Everyone

Gloom is the enemy, even to the end.
The parodies of self-knowledge were embossed by
Gloom inside our eyelids, and the abrasion makes us
weep, for no reason, like a new bride disconsolate in the
nightgown she had sewn so carefully.

The dog comes back from the fields, lumpy with burrs.
I put down my pen and pull them out; it is care
I have taught him to expect. I’ve always said
it would be difficult.

I’m declaring a new regime. Its flag is woven loam.
Its motto is: Love is worth even its own disasters.
Its totem is the worm. We eat our way through grief
and make it richer. We don’t blunt ourselves against stones
—their borders go all the way through. We go around them.
In my new regime Gloom dances by itself, like a sad poet.

Also I will be sending out some letters:
Dear Friends, please come to the party for my new life.
The dog will meet you at the road, barking,
running stiff-legged circles. Pluck one of his burrs and
follow him here. I’ve got lots of good wine. I’m in love,
my new poems are better than my old poems. It’s been
too long since we started over.

The new regime will start when you lift your eyes
from this page. Here it comes.

by William Matthews
from
Sleek for the Long Flight
White Pine Press 1972