Untitled, Margaret Atwood (from her "Selected Poems, 1965-1975)

[imaginary-lines.livejournal.com]

You want to go back

to where the sky was inside us

 

animals ran through us, our hands

blessed and killed according to our

wisdom, death

made real blood come out

 

But face it, we have been

improved, our heads float 

several inches above our necks

moored to us by 

rubber tubes and filled with

clever bubbles,

 

our bodies

are populated with billions

of soft pink numbers

multiplying and analyzing

themselves, perfecting

their own demands, no trouble to anyone.

 

I love you by

sections and when you work. 

 

Do you want to be illiterate? 

This is the way it is, get used to it. 

 

Comments

[chalkdustmonkey.livejournal.com]

atwood never fails to amaze and inspire me.

[scratchmist.livejournal.com]

I liked it a lot, especially the middle portion. The last two stanzas seemed almost disconnected for me, curiously. Margaret Atwood is amazing, though.

[lifeisacabaret.livejournal.com]

Fantastic choice.

[graveyardgrin.livejournal.com]

this is lovely.