(no subject)

[schroederjt.livejournal.com]

I think this is one of Margaret Atwood's.

---

It doesn't matter how it is done
these hints, these whispers:

whether it is some god
blowing through your head
as through a round bone
flute, or bright
stones fallen on the sand

or a charlatan, stringing you
a line with bird gut,
or smoke, or the taut hair
of a dead girl singing.

It doesn't matter what is said
but you can feel
those crystal hands, stroking
the air around your body
tull the air glows white

and you are like the moon
seen from the earth, oval and gentle
and filled with light.

The moon seen from the moon
a different thing.