Wislawa Szymborska, 'Lot's Wife'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Lot's Wife

They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
( Struck by the silence, hoping God had changed his mind )

They are hostile nations by Margaret Atwood

[tetaelzbieta.livejournal.com]

i

In view of the fading animals
the proliferation of sewers and fears
the sea clogging, the air
nearing extinction

we should be kind, we should
take warning, we should forgive each other

Instead we are opposite, we
touch as though attacking,

the gifts we bring
even in good faith maybe
warp in our hands to
implements, to manoeuvres


ii

Put down the target of me
you guard inside your binoculars,
in turn I will surrender

this aerial photograph
(your vulnerable
sections marked in red)
I have found so useful

See, we are alone in
the dormant field, the snow
that cannot be eaten or captured


iii

Here there are no armies
here there is no money

It is cold and getting colder,

We need each others’
breathing, warmth, surviving
is the only war
we can afford, stay

walking with me, there is almost
time / if we can only
make it as far as

the (possibly) last summer

'Did You Bring Me Anything', Gary Margolis

[sashay-away.livejournal.com]

I know it's your birthday and I am an hour
late. I didn't think there would be another 
girl for me to talk with, as I was putting on my

coat, turning off the light. Soft touch or not,
you know how hard it is for me to say no
when someone asks to speak with me and it is

their eyes that say first what they have
to say. I've read all the numbers that make me
sick about men who never learned to take

no for an answer and turn themselves into a cruel
statistic, turning a girl, most often
a friend, into another word, through no 

choice of hers, she now must call herself.
I don't want to think of you this way,
especially today as you turn six, but having

just told another student it's not her fault,
I must find the words no father can give you
to use some night when there are only miles

between us. Words, I hope, your date's father
has taught his son to hear, even if there were nights
he was late getting home, with nothing in his hands.

Tag Request : Gary Margolis