I cannot be distant
since everything has come alarmingly closer—
the curls, the infectious chuckles,
the drawl like poured-out honey,
the privilege of sharing her astute delight,
the benign devastations of her wit.
A fragment from Derek Wolcott's statement read in honor of Elizabeth Hardwick at her memorial service in New York on 16 December. It appeared in 17 January issue of the New York Review of Books and is so full of love it's startling and a tender treat to read »