In Umbria in  General   

Once upon a time I was sitting outside the cafe
watching twilight in Umbria when a girl came
out of the bakery with the bread her mother wanted.
She did not know what to do. Already bewildered
by being thirteen and just that summer a woman,
she now had to walk past the American.
But she did fine. Went by and around the corner
with style, not noticing me. Almost perfect.
At the last instant could not resist darting a look
down at her new breasts. Often I go back
to that dip of her head when people talk
about this one or that one of the great beauties.

By Jack Gilbert

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Jack Gilbert:

• Divorce
• In Dispraise Of Poetry
• In Umbria
• Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying
• Portrait Number Five: Against A New York Summer
• Rain
• Recovering Amid The Farms
• Searching For Pittsburgh
• Tear It Down
• The Abnormal Is Not Courage
• The Great Fires