30 August 2013

The House

in this house poems are broken, 
I would invent the end of poetry;
we are only complete when

     that image of me in you
     that image of you in me
     breaks, repairs itself.

you are the earth and the earth;
release those cosmic hands which held you
while I set out on my urgent journeys --

     in this house we repair
     torn walls together and do not
     ask how they were torn.

we work slowly, for 
the house is the earth
and the earth --

     the delicate people in you
     from room to room.

Gwendolyn MacEwan, A Breakfast for Barbarians
Ryerson Press 1966

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