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Atlantis
Mark Doty
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Atlantis
Mark Doty
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The poignant, accomplished new collection of poetry from the author of My Alexandria --1993 winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award, Los Angeles Times Book Award, 1993 National Book Award Finalist.
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LiteratureSous-sujet
PoetryAtlantis
1. FAITH
âIâve been having these
awful dreams, each a little different,
though the coreâs the sameâ
weâre walking in a field,
Wally and Arden and I, a stretch of grass
with a highway running beside it,
or a path in the woods that opens
onto a road. Everythingâs fine,
then the dog sprints ahead of us,
excited; weâre calling but
heâs racing down a scent and doesnât hear us,
and thatâs when he goes
onto the highway. I donât want to describe it.
Sometimes itâs brutal and over,
and others heâs struck and takes off
so we donât know where he is
or how bad. This wakes me
every night now, and I stay awake;
Iâm afraid if I sleep Iâll go back
into the dream. Itâs been six months,
almost exactly, since the doctor wrote
not even a real word
but an acronym, a vacant
four-letter cipher
that draws meanings into itself,
reconstitutes the world.
We tried to say it was just
a word; we tried to admit
it had power and thus to nullify it
by means of our acknowledgement.
I know the current wisdom:
bright hope, the power of wishing youâre well.
Heâs just so tired, though nothing
shows in any tests, Nothing,
the doctor says, detectable;
the doctor doesnât hear what I do,
that trickling, steadily rising nothing
that makes him sleep all day,
vanish into feverâs tranced afternoons,
and I swear sometimes
when I put my head to his chest
I can hear the virus humming
like a refrigerator.
Which is what makes me think
you can take your positive attitude
and go straight to hell.
We donât have a future,
we have a dog.
Who is he?
Soul without speech,
sheer, tireless faith,
he is that-which-goes-forward,
black muzzle, black paws
scouting whatâs ahead;
he is where weâll be hit first,
heâs the part of us
thatâs going to get it.
Iâm hardly awake on our morning walk
âalways just me and Arden nowâ
and sometimes I am still
in the thrall of the dream,
which is why, when he took a step onto Commercial
before Iâd looked both ways,
I screamed his name and grabbed his collar.
And there I was on my knees,
both arms around his neck
and nothing coming,
and when I looked into that bewildered face
I realized I didnât know what it was
I was shouting at,
I didnât know who I was trying to protect.â
2. REPRIEVE
I woke in the night
and thought, It was a dream,
nothing has torn the future apart,
we have not lived years
in dread, it never happened,
I dreamed it all. And then
there was this sensation of terrific pressure
lifting, as if I were rising
in one of those old diving bells,
lightening, unburdening. I didnât know
how heavy my life had becomeâso much fear,
so little...