Shack Attack. | Home | No Stab Nor Squirm.

24 Apr 2007

If We Are Lucky.

Written by sally @ 12:04 pm — Section: Uncategorized

Margaret Atwood’s poems are like Edward Gorey drawings. Read this and see what I mean.

Game Before Supper

This is before electricity,
it is when there were porches.

On the sagging porch an old man
is rocking. The porch is wooden,

the house is wooden and grey;
in the living room which smells of
smoke and mildew, soon
the woman will light the kerosene lamp.

There is a barn but I am not in the barn;
there is an orchard too, gone bad,
its apples like soft cork
but I am not there either.

I am hiding in the long grass
with my two dead cousins,
the membrane grown already
across their throats.

We hear crickets and our own hearts
close to our ears;
though we giggle, we are afraid.

From the shadows around
the corner of the house
a tall man is coming to find us:

He will be an uncle,
if we are lucky.

— Margaret Atwood

(from Selected Poems, 1965-1975, Houghton Mifflin, 1976, p. 118)

One Response to “If We Are Lucky.”

  1. liz said:

    Shivers!