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By Suzanne Buffam

I am wearing dark glasses inside the house

To match my dark mood.

 

I have left all the sugar out of the pie.

My rage is a kind of domestic rage.

 

I learned it from my mother

Who learned it from her mother before her

 

And so on.

Surely the Greeks had a word for this.

 

Now surely the Germans do.

The more words a person knows

 

To describe her private sufferings

The more distantly she can perceive them.

 

I repeat the names of all the cities I’ve known

And watch an ant drag its crooked shadow home.

 

What does it mean to love the life we’ve been given?

To act well the part that’s been cast for us?

 

Wind. Light. Fire. Time.  

A train whistles through the far hills.

 

One day I plan to be riding it.


Suzanne Buffam, "Enough" from The Irrationalist. Copyright © 2010 by Suzanne Buffam.  Reprinted by permission of Canarium Books.

Source: The Irrationalist (Canarium Books, 2010)

  • Activities
  • Living
  • Relationships

Poet Bio

Suzanne Buffam
Suzanne Buffam was born and raised in Montreal, Canada. She earned an MA in English from Concordia University and an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. About Buffam's poetry, Gilliam Jerome, writing of Past Imperfect in Canadian Literature, identified “a speaker self-consciously wary of mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.” She teaches at the University of Chicago. See More By This Poet

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