Louise Gluck's "Dawn"

DAWN

1

Child waking up in a dark room
screaming I want my duck back, I want my duck back

in a language nobody understands in the least —

There is no duck.

But the dog, all upholstered in white plush —
the dog is right there in the crib next to him.

Years and years — that’s how much time passes.
All in a dream. But the duck —
no one knows what happened to that.

2

They’ve  just met, now
they’re sleeping near an open window.

Partly to wake them, to assure them
that what they remember of  the night is correct,
now light needs to enter the room,

also to show them the context in which this occurred:
socks half  hidden under a dirty mat,
quilt decorated with green leaves —

the sunlight specifying
these but not other objects,
setting boundaries, sure of  itself, not arbitrary,

then lingering, describing
each thing in detail,
fastidious, like a composition in English,
even a little blood on the sheets —

3

Afterward, they separate for the day.
Even later, at a desk, in the market,
the manager not satisfied with the figures he’s given,
the berries moldy under the topmost layer —

so that one withdraws from the world
even as one continues to take action in it —

You get home, that’s when you notice the mold.
Too late, in other words.

As though the sun blinded you for a moment.

--LOUISE GLUCK


(Thank you, AB, for the gift of the collected works!)

Tidal Ignorance, Deeper Bliss

My dive-buddy Keith and I never mastered the tide tables.

We'd aim at early morning dives, high tide or low, figuring we'd pick the calmer, less wind-driven waters of most dawns over shallower, supposedly easier diving. Up on the Sonoma Coast, we weren't beach-diving, but were entering and exiting via rocky shores. Thinking about the wave action mattered more, we felt, than thinking about the tidal action. Especially, for exiting the water.

If the tide were in, well, we'd just hold our breath a bit more, kick a bit harder.

And, if the tide were in, later we could point out that we were diving deeper for our abalone. We'd laugh, knowing that we should know those tide tables better, but not really caring.

We were diving deep enough, deeper than some.

We didn't mind laughing at ourselves either.

Of course, if we'd been surfers, we'd have figured out those tables in very short order.