Lines

I don't go looking for this stuff, honestly.

It just finds me.

Or maybe what we notice and take in depends on where we are, our state of mind.

Anyway - another mother/daughter poem from the Saturday Guardian, only a couple of months since the previous one I posted.


This is by Anne Carson

Lines

While talking to my mother I neaten things. Spines of books by the phone.
Paperclips
In a paper dish. Fragments of eraser that dot the desk. She speaks
longingly
of death. I begin tilting all the paperclips in the other direction.
Out
the window snow is falling straight down in lines. To my mother,
love
of my life, I describe what I had for brunch. The lines are falling
faster
now. Fate has put little weights on the ends (to speed us up) I
want
to tell her - sign of God's pity. She won't keep me
she says, she
won't run up my bill. Miracles slip past us. The
paperclips
are immortally aligned. God's pity! How long
will
it feel like burning, said the child trying to be
kind.


No need to comment.

Especially as I didn't write it anyway, hahaha!

But one thing you can comment on if you know anything about it: should I switch to Beta blogger or not?

Trac said YES! she has and its easier and quicker and fun fun fun. And she's now purple after all.

Wendz said NO! she has and its a pain in the arse.



.... so now, how can I decide?