This Is A Photograph Of Me
It was taken some time ago.
At first it seems to be
a smeared
print: blurred lines and grey flecks
blended with the paper;
then, as you scan
it, you see in the left-hand corner
a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree
(balsam or spruce) emerging
and, to the right, halfway up
what ought to be a gentle
slope, a small frame house.
In the background there is a lake,
and beyond that, some low hills.
(The photograph was taken
the day after I drowned.
I am in the lake, in the center
of the picture, just under the surface.
It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how large or small I am:
the effect of water
on light is a distortion
but if you look long enough,
eventually
you will be able to see me.)
-Margaret Atwood
Tags: poetry, photograph
Neha says:
I love it…! Its sad in a moving way. and yet so eerie. reminds me of a song by megadeath.
November 14th, 2005 at 02:24 pm
Duh nston says:
perhaps it was written for virginia woolf?
November 14th, 2005 at 03:13 pm
Lost_and_invalid says:
Haunting imagery which brings the piece to life but leaves us with a confussing theme sort of mysterious.
September 24th, 2006 at 11:14 pm