Margaret Atwood Poems

More and more frequently the edges
of me dissolve and I become
a wish to assimilate the world, including
you, if possible through the skin
...

Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the sanities:
...

There is nothing to be afraid of,
it is only the wind
changing to the east, it is only
your father the thunder
...

All those times I was bored
out of my mind. Holding the log
while he sawed it. Holding
the string while he measured, boards,
...

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
...

My shadow said to me:
what is the matter
...

My daughter plays on the floor
with plastic letters,
red, blue & hard yellow,
learning how to spell,
...

In the burned house I am eating breakfast.
You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,
yet here I am.
...

He was the sort of man
who wouldn't hurt a fly.
Many flies are now alive
while he is not.
...

In the secular night you wander around
alone in your house. It's two-thirty.
Everyone has deserted you,
or this is your story;
...