Siren Song

Margaret Atwood is one of those names you hear a lot in feminist circles, but until a few months ago I'd never read anything by her. I finally got my hands on a copy of The Handmaid's Tale during one of my trips, and I found it both absorbing and disturbing, as she doubtless intended. I've since heard of other books by her, though I've not yet read them. But I have discovered that she also writes poetry. Thus far, this is my favorite.

Siren Song


This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistible:

the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see beached skulls

the song nobody knows
because anyone who had heard it
is dead, and the others can’t remember.
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don’t enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don’t enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song

is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique

at last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.

Margaret Atwood

Circe

I had intended to blog about a conversation I had a few nights ago. I'd already written my post, but saved it in the wrong format for the Moroccan cybercafe computer to open. I'll leave you instead with a quote by Olga Broumas, from her poem "Circe."


What I wear in the morning pleases
me:green shirt, skirt of wine. I am wrapped

in myself as the smell of night
wraps round my sleep when I sleep

outside. By the time
I get to the corner

bar, corner store, corner construction
site, I become divine. I turn

men into swine. Leave
them behind me whistling, grunting, wild.