The Sidewalk, by Margaret Atwood

The Sidewalk 

by Margaret Atwood

We’re hand in hand along

any old street, by the lake this time, and laughing

too at some joke we’ve

made and forgotten, and the sun

shines or it’s raining, lunch after lunch, dinner

after dinner. You could see it

as one thing after another. Where

are we going? It looks like

nowhere; though we’re going

where love goes finally, we’re

going under. But not

yet, we’re still

incarnate, though the trees break

into flame, blaze up, shed

in one gasp, turn to ash, each thing

burns over and over and we will

too, even the lake’s

on fire now, it’s evening and the sidewalk

fills with blue light, you can see down

through it, we walk on

water for a split

second before faith lapses and we let go

of each other also. Everything’s

brighter just before, and it’s

just before always.

–

From Paper Boat, 2023

via  The Chawed Rosin