Four Evasions // Margaret Atwood

[iatrogenicmyth]

Sitting in the car, houses & wind outside,
three in the morning, windows
obliterated by snow

coats & arms around each other, hands
cold, no place we can go

unable to say how much I want you
unable even to say
I am unable

*

Not that there is nothing to be
said but that there is
too much: this cripples me,

I watch with envy & desire,
you speak so freely.

*

Tell me something,
you ask at last, Anything.

To love is to let go
of those excuses, habits
we used once for our own safety

but the old words reappear
in the shut throat, decree

themselves: exile,
betrayal, failure.

*

Airplane makes it off
the runway, cars & houses deflate,

diesel air & stale upholstery,
smell of you still on my skin;

thinking of my reluctance, way I withdrew
when you came toward me, why did I.

Easier to invent, remember you
than to confront you, fact

of you, admit
you, let you in.