Gedicht
Heather McHugh
NOT TO BE DWELLED ON
NOT TO BE DWELLED ON
NOT TO BE DWELLED ON
Self-interest cropped up even there,the day I hoisted three instead of the
called-for two
spadefuls of loam onto
the coffin of my friend.
Why shovel more than anybody else?
What did I think I’d prove? More love
(mud in her eye)? More will to work
(her father what, a shirker?) Christ,
I’d give an arm or leg
to get that spoonful back.
She cannot die again; and I
do nothing but relive.
© 2007, Heather McHugh
From: Poetry, Vol. 191, No. 2, November
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
From: Poetry, Vol. 191, No. 2, November
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
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NOT TO BE DWELLED ON
Self-interest cropped up even there,the day I hoisted three instead of the
called-for two
spadefuls of loam onto
the coffin of my friend.
Why shovel more than anybody else?
What did I think I’d prove? More love
(mud in her eye)? More will to work
(her father what, a shirker?) Christ,
I’d give an arm or leg
to get that spoonful back.
She cannot die again; and I
do nothing but relive.
From: Poetry, Vol. 191, No. 2, November
NOT TO BE DWELLED ON
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