Whatever exists at the earth's center will get me sooner or later. Sooner. Than I think. That core of light squeezed tight and shut, dense as a star, as molten mirrors. Dark red and heavy. Slab at the butcher's. Already it's dragging me down, [...]
Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems II (1976–1986), “Aging Female Poet on Laundry Day”
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