You made me go look at her other poems, and why is there so much Elena Gilbert in them.
Where have they gone to, brother and sister, mother and father? Off along the shore, perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers
I can't see my own arms and legs or know if this is a trap or blessing, finding myself back here, where everything in this house has long been over, kettle and mirror, spoon and bowl, including my own body, including the body I had then, including the body I have now as I sit at this morning table, alone and happy
The photograph was taken the day after I drowned.
I am in the lake, in the center of the picture, just under the surface.
It is difficult to say where precisely, or to say how large or small I am: the effect of water on light is a distortion
omg I LOVE THIS. And I already loved MA, but somehow hadn't ever seen this. I kind of want to emblazon it on a wall somewhere, you know?? Ugg. So good.
I kind of want to emblazon it on a wall somewhere, you know?? If lines from this poem started being recorded on walls in spray-paint, I would be the last to complain.
Comments 10
I'm going to expect Elena fic based on this, please.
Lol this was my first thought too. not necessarily for elena, but I expect it to turn up in all the ficathons now too.
Aren't these lines gorgeous:
I sell men back their worse suspicions:
that everything's for sale
The rest of them would like to watch me
and feel nothing. Reduce me to components
as in a clock factory or abattoir.
Crush out the mystery.
They'd like to see through me,
but nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
(lo)cation:thesis-avoidance-ville (we have cookies)
Also, hi-5. I'm at university and supposed to be writing my assignment but I spent my time on Lj instead :D
Reply
but I expect it to turn up in all the ficathons now too.
I sure as hell hope so!
They'd like to see through me,
but nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
Absolutely lovely.
hi-5 brain-sister! I was trolling facebook instead of writing when I found that poem. I'm so glad I wasn't paying attention!
Reply
Where have they gone to, brother and sister,
mother and father? Off along the shore,
perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers
I can't see my own arms and legs
or know if this is a trap or blessing,
finding myself back here, where everything
in this house has long been over,
kettle and mirror, spoon and bowl,
including my own body,
including the body I had then,
including the body I have now
as I sit at this morning table, alone and happy
The photograph was taken
the day after I drowned.
I am in the lake, in the center
of the picture, just under the surface.
It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how large or small I am:
the effect of water
on light is a distortion
Ok I will stop now.
Reply
Atwood you perfect human being.
/goodbye - sobbing now
Reply
Reply
If lines from this poem started being recorded on walls in spray-paint, I would be the last to complain.
♥
Reply
That's it.
Just GAH.
Reply
Reply
Try me.
I HATE THIS POEM.
(YOU ♥)
Reply
(♥ YOU)
*squish*
Reply
Leave a comment