Habitation by Margaret Atwood

Marriage is not
a house or even a tent

it is before that, and colder:

The edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert
the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat
outside, eating popcorn

where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even
this far

we are learning to make fire

by Margaret Atwood

Other poems by 'Margaret Atwood'

You Fit Into Me

Siren Song

This Is A Photograph Of Me

Spelling

Night Poem

You Begin

Bored

You Take My Hand

A Visit

Variation On The Word Sleep

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