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    Stanley Kunitz - Touch Me

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    poetictouch

    by poetictouch

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    Stanley Kunitz reads his poem Touch Me

    Touch Me
    by Stanley Kunitz (1905-2006)

    Summer is late, my heart.
    Words plucked out of the air
    some forty years ago
    when I was wild with love
    and torn almost in two
    scatter like leaves this night
    of whistling wind and rain.
    It is my heart that’s late,
    it is my song that’s flown.
    Outdoors all afternoon
    under a gunmetal sky
    staking my garden down,
    I kneeled to the crickets trilling
    underfoot as if about
    to burst from their crusty shells;
    and like a child again
    marveled to hear so clear
    and brave a music pour
    from such a small machine.
    What makes the engine go?
    Desire, desire, desire.
    The longing for the dance
    stirs in the buried life.
    One season only,
    and it’s done.
    So let the battered old willow
    thrash against the windowpanes
    and the house timbers creak.
    Darling, do you remember
    the man you married? Touch me,
    remind me who I am.