And the next day, we were kids again, sitting on the front steps in the morning,
eating a peach. Just that, but it seemed an honor to have a mouth.
Louise Glück, "Midsummer"
I don't think I have ever really been moved by a poem by Louise Glück before, but this one from the February 2008 issue of Poetry really struck me.
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I liked that poem too - it felt - though much wordier - like earlier Gluck (Ararat and before).
I found Emanuel's poem a little disappointing: she hasn't had anything new in so long, I was so excited, and then - sort of flat.
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