Poems - The New Yorker
November 30, 2020 Issue 

 
November
By Charles Simic

The crosses all men and women
Must carry through life
Even more visible
On this dark and rainy night.

Discovered On Episode 1 of The Queen's Gambit

Not Waving but Drowning

BY STEVIE SMITH

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.



Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.



Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.