a poem some days (exceptindreams) wrote,
a poem some days
exceptindreams

1884: Eventual Proteus | Margaret Atwood

"Eventual Proteus"
Margaret Atwood

I held you
through all your shifts
of structure: while your bones turned
from caved rock back to marrow,
the dangerous
fur faded to hair
the bird’s cry died in your throat
the treebark paled from your skin
the leaves from your eyes

till you limped back again
to daily man:
a lounger on streetcorners
an iron-shiny garbadine
a leaner on stale tables:
at night a twitching sleeper
dreaming of crumbs and rhymes and a sagging woman
caged by a sour bed.

The early
languages are obsolete.

These days we keep
our weary distances:
sparring in the vacant spaces
of peeling rooms
and rented minutes, climbing
all the expected stairs, our voices
abraded with fatigue,
our bodies wary.
Tags: margaret atwood
Subscribe

  • 1515: The Wife of Jesus Speaks | Mary Karr

    "The Wife of Jesus Speaks" Mary Karr Ours was the first inch of time. The word passion hadn't yet been coined, and I'd not yet watched my beloved…

  • 1245: Day Dream | A. S. J. Tessimond

    "Day Dream" A. S. J. Tessimond One day people will touch and talk perhaps easily, And loving be natural as breathing and warm as sunlight, And…

  • Gravy  | Raymond Carver

    “Gravy” Raymond Carver No other word will do. For that’s what it was. Gravy. Gravy, these past ten years. Alive, sober, working, loving and being…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 2 comments