Henry Morgenthau III

Henry Morgenthau III
Henry Morgenthau III is a former executive producer at WGBH and the author of A Sunday in Purgatory.
  • Poem of the Week: ‘A Sunday in Purgatory,’ by Henry Morgenthau III

    Pantea A. Tofangchi / Passager Books

    Editor’s note: Henry Morgenthau III is a 100-year-old poet. He published his first collection in 2016 at the age of 99. Before that, he was a writer and a documentary filmmaker at WGBH in Boston, working with subjects from James Baldwin to Eleanor Roosevelt. He’s also a memoirist, and the son of the former U.S. treasury secretary Henry Morgenthau Jr., but his family connections don’t define his poems—as he told us, “One of the reasons I started writing poetry was to free myself from all that.”

    For Morgenthau, freedom comes with humor and insight, in his own distinctive voice. And in his poem “A Sunday in Purgatory,” he finds this freedom even within the would-be confines of his age. It’s the title poem of his book, and we’re delighted to share it below.

    —Jeffrey Goldberg

    A voluntary inmate immured
    in a last resort for seniors,
    there are constant reminders,
    the reaper is lurking around that corner.
    I am at home, very much at home,
    here at Ingleside at Rock Creek.
    Distant three miles from my caring daughter.

    At Ingleside, a faith-based community
    for vintage Presbyterians, I am an old Jew.
    But that’s another story.
    I’m not complaining with so much I want to do,
    doing it at my pace, slowly.
    Anticipation of death is like looking for a new job.

    Then suddenly on a Sunday,
    talking recklessly while eating brunch,
    a gristly piece of meat lodges in my throat.
    I struggle for breath, too annoyed to be scared.
    Someone pounds my back to no avail.
    Out of nowhere, an alert pint-sized waiter
    performs the Heimlich maneuver.
    I don’t believe it will work.
    It does! Uncorked, I am freed.

    Looking up I see the concerned visage and
    reversed collar of a retired Navy chaplain,
    pinch hitting as God’s messenger for the day.
    Had he come to perform the last rites,
    to ease my passage from this world to the hereafter?
    Don’t jump to dark conclusions.
    In World War II on active duty,
    he learned the Heimlich as well as the himmlisch.
    Knowing it is best administered
    to a standing victim,
    he rushed to intervene.
    On this day I am twice blessed
    with the kindness of strangers.

    You can listen to a reading by Morgenthau here; read more about his poetry collection from Passager Books here; and contact him here.