From Fence/Harmony Holiday:
“In the spirit of National Poetry Month, we are inaugurating a by-us-for-us iteration of an audio archive of poems and poetry-related material. We hope to record at least one poem or related-excerpt or piece of writing each day this month, with an emphasis on poems and texts by Black, Brown and Beige writers, artists and thinkers or writers/artists/thinkers in solidarity with aesthetics that are less-than-dominant within traditional archives.
More and more frequently the edges
of me dissolve and I become
a wish to assimilate the world, including
you, if possible through the skin
like a cool plant’s tricks with oxygen
and live by a harmless green burning.
I would not consume
you or ever
finish, you would still be there
surrounding me, complete
as the air.
Unfortunately I don’t have leaves.
Instead I have eyes
and teeth and other non-green
things which rule out osmosis.
So be careful, I mean it,
I give you fair warning:
This kind of hunger draws
everything into its own
space; nor can we
talk it all over, have a calm
There is no reason for this, only
a starved dog’s logic about bones.
[I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only.] I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
— Margaret Atwood, from “Variation on the Word Sleep”