Poems About Margaret Atwood Seeking Friendly Advice

All the parts of me are obvious, see:
I consist of a heart in a tight corseted sternum
pressed upward in constant female expansion;
the weighty dreams I hold to
lean into this caving posture.

Womanhood should be
an easy aspiration yet
it holds uncertain things as stones
stuck into mud hold such after it rains
(I know what is there already, that
           is the riddle) --

Its metallic taste rises in my mouth
to meet my every desire:
Crumb by crumb,
I see it fall from the air;
the empty air where love ...

The warm night air sits
still and surrounds
all the ripened stalks
and fully opened flowers;
petals dangling in
a final vitality.

Heavy branches swoon
insect-laden air as lower leaves
begin a first yellowing of many
transitions to come;
hunger abated.

A ground saturated in
summer rain lingers
under plush, trampled
long, strewn grasses.

Songs of summer still
hang suspended in the air
as if exuded from molecules
of all that new life blooming,
bursting forth;

The mellow...

I smell that you
are chasing me with your eyes,
and I leave my scent behind
so that you may know the joy of
my leaping / if only for ignorance
of what a stone feels.

My only conquest
is to break the grasses down;
not to diminish them but
encourage them by chewing
their stalks to a pulp.
I eat what nobody wants
and leave their digested remains behind
in your overgrown pasture.

How do I survive;
this is how, and why --

I am light as air, I think,
and the ways of the world don't
collect...