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
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