Poetry

Thief du Lac

Lewis Hyde

  • Thief in the Hotel du Lac!
  • Our little pouch of cash--
  • pure loss, now, or
  • pure plenitude, for
  • hardly a month will pass
  • I do not spend those bills
  • in fantasy--shop window in Verona:
  • an oriental rug, the fancy desk lamp
  • under which I write hurriedly
  • in soft pencil on yellow pads,
  • those saxophone lessons
  • and the teacher whose family
  • slowly moved into our extra
  • bedroom, and all that happened
  • afterward, the blood, the gold, the babies,
  • oh Thief du Lac, true wealth
  • is hard to find.

-- July 1991, Bellagio, Italy