I was told that the following poem, written by Margaret Atwood in 1971 is very close to my own writing style. I wouldn’t be able to say that it is, or isn’t. You decide…
Quote: |
They Eat Out – by Margaret Atwood, 1971
In restaurants we argue though the real question is At the moment only I I raise the magic fork and plunge it into your heart. and through your own split head the ceiling opens Splendoured Thing in blue tights and a red cape, The other diners regard you they cannot decide if you are a new weapon As for me, I continue eating; |