“Your student wrote me, if he took a plane
past Harvard, at any angle, at any height,
he’d see a person missing, Mr. Robert Lowell.
You insist on treating Harriet as if she
were thirty or a wrestler—she is only thirteen.
She is normal and good because she had normal and good
parents. She is threatened of necessity.…
I love you, Darling, there’s a black black void,
as black as night without you. I long to see
your face and hear your voice, and take your hand—
I’m watching a scruffy, seal-colored woodchuck graze
on weeds, then lift his greedy snout and listen;
then back to speedy feeding. He weighs a ton,
and has your familiar human aspect munching.”