Mock Orange by Louis Glück   This poem has appealed to me for decades now. But it most clearly spoke to me in my early twenties, when I wanted to boil my anger and disappointment down into the same economic images and chiseled, muscular lines as Glück’s speakers. The confessional impulse of the poem, as well as its intimate conversational mode, pulled me in. The poem fueled my anti-romantic Romantic impulses, feeding with its bitter turns the young poet in me who both rejected and longed for the communion of souls that Glück’s narrator evokes only to excoriate. Ironically, the poem’s sensual cynicism made me feel less alone. The poem’s turns lie for me in the speaker’s homage to and then flouting of Romantic conventions…