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Musée des Beaux Arts

Poetry Exhibits and Curatorial Poetics

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This page was created by Asher Koreman. 

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Koreman Poem 1

Louise Gluck, "Penelope's Song" (1996)
This autobiographical poem is from Louise Gluck’s collection “Meadowlands”. Gluck writes from the perspective of Penelope, wife of Odysseus, impatiently waiting for her husband to come back from his long and arduous journey. Gluck as Penelope, still hoping her husband will return addresses Telemachus, her son, the “little perpetually undressed one” to go climb a spruce tree and look out over the water his father embarked on and call out to him. Penelope still seems confident her husband will return and wants to instill this faith in her son having him call out over the water with his “grasping, / unnatural song” which the reader could interpret as his cries for the father he misses. Here it is clear that the relationship between Odysseus and his family is still one of hopeful love but there are moments of disquiet that make it seem that his return may not be all that is advertised. Drawing most likely from her own experiences from her divorce, Gluck alludes throughout the poem that the harmony of this scene is slightly off key. To Gluck, the return of her Odysseus does not portend of familial bliss.

click here for a reading of the poem


Penelope’s Song
By Louise Gluck

Little soul, little perpetually undressed one,
do now as I bid you, climb
the shelf-like branches of the spruce tree;
wait at the top, attentive, like
a sentry or look-out. He will be home soon;
it behooves you to be
generous. You have not been completely
perfect either; with your troublesome body
you have done things you shouldn’t
discuss in poems. Therefore
call out to him over the open water, over the bright water
with your dark song, with your grasping,
unnatural song—passionate,
like Marie Callas. Who 
wouldn’t want you? Whose most demonic appetite 
could you possibly fail to answer? Soon
he will return from wherever he goes in the meantime,
suntanned from his time away, wanting
his grilled chicken. Ah, you must greet him,  
you must shake the boughs of the tree  
to get his attention,
but carefully, carefully, lest
his beautiful face be marred
by too many falling needles.
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