Margaret Atwood Poems
|1.||The Circle Game||9/8/2015|
|2.||Death of a Young Son by Drowning||6/23/2015|
|4.||They Eat Out||10/21/2006|
|7.||The Shadow Voice||1/2/2004|
|8.||Backdropp Addresses Cowboy||1/2/2004|
|9.||Sekhmet, The Lion-Headed Goddess Of War||1/3/2003|
|12.||Flying Inside Your Own Body||1/3/2003|
|13.||In The Secular Night||1/3/2003|
|16.||More And More||1/3/2003|
|18.||Variations On The Word Love||1/3/2003|
|19.||The City Planners||1/3/2003|
|21.||Morning In The Burned House||1/20/2003|
|23.||Variation On The Word Sleep||1/13/2003|
|24.||This Is A Photograph Of Me||1/3/2003|
|26.||Helen Of Troy Does Countertop Dancing||1/20/2003|
|28.||You Fit Into Me||1/3/2003|
|30.||A Sad Child||1/3/2003|
Comments about Margaret Atwood
A Sad Child
You're sad because you're sad.
It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you
the day of the lawn party
when you came inside flushed with the sun,
your mouth sulky with sugar,
in your new dress with the ribbon
and the ice-cream ...
More And More
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
like a cool plant's tricks with oxygen
and live by a harmless green burning.
I would not consume
you or ever