Trying to Have Something Left Over

Image by Noah Lovejoy


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 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.


Jack Gilbert

Posted over on Poetry Foundation