1 No, I don't know the way to get there. Two empty suitcases sit in the corner, if that's any kind of clue. 2 This spring night, everyone at the party younger than me except for one man. We give each other the secret password. 3 Tears? Of course, but also the marsh grass near the Mississippi: your whispers and mine, and the dog's long contented sighs.
Copyright © 2011 by Jim Moore. Reprinted from Invisible Strings with the permission of Graywolf Press.
Jim Moore was born on June 22, 1943, in Decatur, Illinois. He began writing in the mid-1960s and received his bachelor’s degree at the University of Minnesota and his master’s degree from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His poetry collections include Underground: New and Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 2014), Invisible Strings (Graywolf Press, 2011), and Lightning at Dinner (Graywolf Press, 2005).
Date Published: 2011-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/almost-sixty