Adrienne Rich — The Loser

(A man thinks of the woman he once loved: first, after her wedding, and then nearly a decade later.) 1. I kissed you, bride and lost, and went home from that bourgeois sacrament your cheek still tasting cold upon my lips that gave you benison with all the swagger that they knew-- as losers somehow learn to do Your wedding made my eyes ache; soon the world would be worse off for one more golden apple dropped to the ground without the least protesting sound and you would windfall lie, and we forget your shimmer on the tree beauty is always wasted: if not Mignon's song sung to the deaf at all events to the unmoved a face like yours cannot be loved long or seriously enough almost we seem to hold it off 2. Well, you are tougher than I thought Now when the wash with ice hangs taught this morning of St. Valentine I see you strip the squeaking line your body weighed against the load and all my groans can do no good because you still are beautiful though squared and stiffened by the pull of what nine windy years have done you have three daughters, lost a son I see all your intelligence flung into that unwearied stance my envy is of no avail i turn my head and wish him well who chafed your beauty into use and lives forever in a house lit by the friction of your mind you stagger in against the wind