Poem by Margaret Atwood

Habitation

Marriage is not
a house or even a tent
it is before that, and colder:
the edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert
the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat
outside, eating popcorn
the edge of the receding glacier
where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even
this far
we are learning to make fire

1. The Shadow Voice
2. More and More
3. Is/Not
4. The Moment

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