The Sunday News

Looking for something in the Sunday paper,

I flipped by accident through Local Weddings,

Yet missed the photograph until I saw

your name among the headings.

And there you were, looking almost unchanged,

Your hair still long, though now long out of style,

And you still wore that stiff and serious look

You called a smile.

I felt as though we sat there face to face.

My stomach tightened.  I read the item through.

It said too much about both families,

Too little about you.

Finished at last, I threw the paper down,

Stung by jealousy, my mind aflame,

Hating this man, this stranger whom you loved,

This printed name.

And yet I clipped it out to put away

Inside a book like something I might use,

A scrap I knew I wouldn't read again

But couldn't bear to lose.

                                           Dana Gioia

From Daily Horoscope, Graywolf Press,

© 1986. Reprinted by permission of the author.