最新的 The New Yorker 刊登了 John Updike 的詩。書要出了。抄一段起名叫 Hospital 的在這。我很喜歡。一月時他病逝了，在書店整理有關他的資料和書籍，看了一堆圖片。從年少到老。他有副特別的輪廓。

My wife of thirty years is on the phone.
I get a busy signal, and I know
she's in her grief and needs to organize
consulting friends. But me, I need her voice;
her body is the only locus where
my desolation bumps against its end.