Heather O'Neill

So the poem's by William Carlos Williams, and it's a poem that's taught a lot in all sorts of poetry classes everywhere, and particularly elementary schools, which is where I heard about it.

And the way it was taught to me was that it was an actual note that William Carlos Williams left for his wife, sort of.

And I always sort of imagined like it's sitting there on the kitchen table waiting for her.

Right.

And it's called This Is Just to Say.

Okay.

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.

What's funny about the poem is that he never really apologizes.

He never apologizes.

He says, forgive me, which is kind of a command.

And so I feel like it's like, oh, you know, I like I ate the plums and that was a bad thing.

But I'm not sorry I did it.

You know, it's interesting to me that it makes you mad.

The thing that really breaks my heart is that she was saving them.

And when he says, probably saving them for breakfast, he knew she was saving them for breakfast.

There's no probably about it.