Sleep

[varices]

I have read Margret Atwood's novel The Blind Assassin and enjoyed it immensely. To my surprise it has taken me another year and a half to realize she has written poetry as well. While it seems absurd to think that a writer is not capable of writing poetry, it does not often come to my mind. If I have been introduced to a person as a poet, I associate them with poetry, though they may have written prose. If I have been introduced to a person as an author of literature, I associate them with prose, though they may have written poetry. Thus when they cross boundaries it comes to a surprise to me, though upon reflection it is not that odd.

This long introduction is merely a jumble ultimately saying that I had no idea Margret Atwood wrote poetry, and upon discovering it I found that I love her poetry. Here is my favorite I have read thus far.

Variation on the Word Sleep By Margret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.