The Shadow Voice by Margaret Atwood

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

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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