Published on Academy of American Poets (https://poets.org)


Complaint

They call me and I go. 
It is a frozen road 
past midnight, a dust 
of snow caught 
in the rigid wheeltracks. 
The door opens. 
I smile, enter and 
shake off the cold. 
Here is a great woman 
on her side in the bed. 
She is sick, 
perhaps vomiting, 
perhaps laboring 
to give birth to 
a tenth child. Joy! Joy! 
Night is a room 
darkened for lovers, 
through the jalousies the sun 
has sent one golden needle! 
I pick the hair from her eyes 
and watch her misery 
with compassion.

Credit


This poem is in the public domain.

Author


William Carlos Williams

Poet, novelist, essayist, and playwright William Carlos Williams is often said to have been one of the principal poets of the Imagist movement.

Date Published: 1921-01-01

Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/complaint-0