The Shadow Voice

My shadow said to me:
what is the matter


Isn't the moon warm
enough for you
why do you need
the blanket of another body


Whose kiss is moss


Around the picnic tables
The bright pink hands held sandwiches
crumbled by distance. Flies crawl
over the sweet instant


You know what is in these blankets


The trees outside are bending with
children shooting guns. Leave
them alone. They are playing
games of their own.


I give water, I give clean crusts


Aren't there enough words
flowing in your veins
to keep you going.

by Margaret Atwood

Comments (8)

A thought provoking write. Superb imagery. Cleverly written.
Aren't there enough words flowing in your veins to keep you going... very poetic in sense.. tony
Attwood is never given the same love for her poetry as she is for her literature, but her poems are as vivid and original as her novels.
In the shadows we hear this voice.
A great poem bu Margaret Atwood.......
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