Your lungs fill & spread themselves,
wings of pink blood, and your bones
empty themselves and become hollow.
When you breathe in youll lift like a balloon
and your heart is light too & huge,
beating with pure joy, pure helium.
The suns white winds blow through you,
theres nothing above you,
you see the earth now as an oval jewel,
radiant & seablue with love.
Its only in dreams you can do this.
Waking, your heart is a shaken fist,
a fine dust clogs the air you breathe in;
the suns a hot copper weight pressing straight
down on the think pink rind of your skull.
Its always the moment just before gunshot.
You try & try to rise but you cannot.
Flying Inside Your Own Body
written byMargaret Atwood
© Margaret Atwood