Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Hesitations Outside the Door - Margaret Atwood

           Art Nouveau door in Paris


By Margaret Atwood

I'm telling the wrong lies,
they are not even useful.

The right lies would at least
be keys, they would open the door.

The door is closed; the chairs,
the tables, the steel bowl, myself

shaping bread in the kitchen, wait
outside it.


Rain, rain and more rain...and a little less pain... It's been raining for months, it seems. My prayers go out to the people in Texas who've experienced such loss from recent flooding. I can deal with the giant mosquitoes, the fleas, the high grass, the lushness. It's all a door---an exit or an entry to what's coming next. Bring it on. xo


erin said...

we are both thinking atwood at the same time:)

i came across a book of hers, i think from 1970, in a junk shop last week. i was so happy. actually, the title of the book is you are happy. such treasures for a dollar!

bowls, doors and bread. these have been a part of me too.)))

Marion Lawless said...

Erin, it was you. I read your Atwood post and it blew me away. I always think of her novels and not her poetry, but I was intrigued so I grabbed a few of my giant anthologies and found this poem. (Then I hunted down a used copy of the book you quoted from and ordered it. The title made me smile...) Oh, how I worship junk me, they're giant treasure boxes full of mystery. I have a handmade chest of drawers that I paid $20 for at a junk store and it has not one screw or piece of hardware...just beautiful, unfinished, notched wood. It's my favorite piece of furniture. Thanks for stopping by, my friend. You always inspire me. xo

Mama Zen said...

I didn't think it was possible to get tired of rain, but I am, I am!

Marion Lawless said...

I know, MZ! I love rain, but we've had so much we can't even mow the grass. My own personal swamp here in the swamp! Thanks for stopping by. xo