tuesday

All roads lead to Jack Gilbert.

"Trying to Have Something Left Over"

There was a great tenderness to the sadness

when I would go there. She knew how much

I loved my wife and that we had no future.

We were like casualties helping each other

as we waited for the end. Now I wonder

if we understood how happy those Danish

afternoons were. Most of the time we did not talk.

Often I took care of the baby while she did

housework. Changing him and making him laugh.

I would say Pittsburgh softly each time before

throwing him up. Whisper Pittsburgh with

my mouth against the tiny ear and throw

him higher. Pittsburgh and happiness high up.

The only way to leave even the smallest trace.

So that all of his life her son would feel gladness

unaccountably when anyone spoke of the ruined

city of steel in America. Each time almost

remembering something maybe important that got lost.