margaret atwood:
This is a mistake,
these arms and legs
that don't work any more
Now it's broken
and no space for excuses.
The earth doesn't comfort,
it only covers up
if you have the decency to stay quiet
The sun doesn't forgive,
it looks and keeps going.
Night seeps into us
through the accidents we have
inflicted on each other
Next time we commit
love, we ought to
choose in advance what to kill.
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