Wrecked Angels

We slept in another corridor

softly lit and carpeted this time

in a mushroom colour, browny-pink

a chair, a women’s washroom

I go out by the back door, into the garden, which is large and tidy

a lawn in the middle, a willow, weeping catkins around the edges

the flower borders

a room key

I walk along the gravel path that divides the back lawn

worse than the heat in daytime

Doubled, I walk different

a block past

from a long way off

the night is mine

my own time like birds with their wings clipped

like flightless birds

wrecked angels

the good weather — normal

My room, emptied of air

as if I’ve been kicked

sometimes I sing to myself, in my head

at the window, waiting

June

nobody says

why tempt her to friendship?

I don’t know how she ended

I thought the least by a roadblock

watching our retreating shapes then

I would not know

can I say?

I feel, become ordinary

I describe

I know you can’t

I could

Mine, then she’s walking away

Hurt you, was all she would say

I am orderly

Love into the dark within

or else the light

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Sometimes, a poetic form is necessary to get the juices flowing.

This is a cut-up poem where I took the first and last sentences from the first ten and last ten chapters of The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and used the first half and last half of each sentence (using a liberal interpretation of ‘half’!) to form the two sections.

The first section is formed from the first sentence in each paragraph, the second section is formed from the last sentence in each paragraph. I also sprinkled in some more rules (because why not?!). They’re my imperfectly applied secret.

I used artistic licence to insert punctuation as I saw fit and also omitted words from long sentences where I felt they hindered rather than assisted my poetic creation.

Thank you to Margaret Atwood for such an amazing novel, which has haunted me for decades.

Thank you for reading!