late night

Late night and rain wakes me, a downpour,
wind thrashing in the leaves, huge
ears, huge feathers,
like some chased animal, a giant
dog or wild boar. Thunder & shivering
windows; from the tin roof
the rush of water.

I lie askew under the net,
tangled in damp cloth, salt in my hair.
When this clears there will be fireflies
& stars, brighter than anywhere,
which I could contemplate at times
of panic. Lightyears, think of it.

Screw poetry, it’s you I want,
your taste, rain
on you, mouth on your skin.

~ by Margaret Atwood



gz said...

true writing xxx

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Said (written) with feeling!

gz said...

those sheep.....just ready to break through the garden gate!!!

red dirt girl said...

i love the 'storm' of emotions and then the sudden narrowing down to the essential need. i mean, i know i tend to do that - to wildly cast about in a storm when what i truly want / need is so very basic: the touch, the taste, the connection.

love those sheep - they have such a look of determined purpose to them. i call the big one in the center che guevara - he's just lacking the jaunty beret!


goatman said...

Her father was a botanist and would take the family from Toronto in summers north to live in a cabin while he collected data and she, apparently, collected herself.
Her book "Surfacing" I think was inspired by these forays.
The netting was probably protection against the mosquitoes and blackflies.

SL said...

RDG, you introduce me to so many wonderful poems and poets! This is so sensual, so full of great imagery.....just lovely.

red dirt girl said...

Oh what wonderful details, goatman! Thank you!


red dirt girl said...

Hi SL!

And you do the same for me!
thank you!!!