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Monday, December 16, 2019

Habitation, Margaret Atwood

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

(note:
whatever 'marriage'...that is just a matter of terminology and convention,
choice and care and love may mean just a bit more)

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