“This is just to say” was one of the first poems that I ever took delight in that spoke to my humanity as a young boy struggling to learn how to read.
This is just to say
BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 1938
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
I was in awe of how so few words captured a simple imperfect vulnerable moment, like Japanese haiku. The poem became a standard by which I judged other poems. As I struggled to learn to read and write, minimalism certainly was more accessible but was also a challenge to pull off well. I became interested in writing creatively in elementary school, and felt ill-equipped, but wrote anyway. I do recall a mimeographed (remember that euphoric smell?) newsletter published in 6th grade. It was called The Pickle. What a catchy name …
