☀ Today's Poem: "A Shift in the Attic" by James Tate

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May 1, 2019

A SHIFT IN THE ATTIC

James Tate

I was swinging on the porch when all of a sudden I fell over
and hit the floor. I don't know how it happened, but I stood up and
brushed myself off. I stood there for a minute, dazed, and felt myself all over
to see if I was hurt. I seemed to be all right. I tested the swing to see
if it was broken, but it wasn't. Maybe it was an earthquake. I walked into
the kitchen and a teacup fell on my head. I thought that was mighty
strange. I swept it up. I went back into the living room and sat down
on the couch. I picked up the newspaper and read about a little girl who
fell into a hole and was never seen again. It made me sad. How could
that happen? There's an end to everything. My couch was sagging. I'm
going to hit the floor, I thought. And then I did. I got up and looked around.
This wasn't my house at all. Yes, it was. There was the little penguin
on the wall, and the walrus beside him. I recognized everything, down
to the little worm on the floor. I moved to the chair beside the window
where the light would be better. Now I could see my hand, not that I wanted
to. It was all gnarly and grey. The chandelier was shaking. Then suddenly all
was quiet. My hands were glowing and so were my cheeks. I felt healthy and
wise. I looked over at the staircase to the attic and there stood a moose.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. But the moose was calm, just looking
around. He walked over to me. There was a bowl of cookies on the table
and I started feeding them to him. He seemed to really like them. When
they were all gone, I walked into the kitchen. He followed me. I
opened the refrigerator and grabbed a head of lettuce and started to feed
it to him. When that was gone I gave him a bowl of spinach, and so on.
We were becoming great friends. Finally, there was a knock on the door.
A man stood there and said, 'That's my moose.' I said, 'No, it isn't. It's
my moose.' He was really mad. He said, 'It isn't your moose. It's mine.'
'I swear it's mine,' I said. And while we were arguing, the moose walked out
onto the porch, jumped the rail and was gone, never to be seen again.

from the journal PN REVIEW

READ ABOUT TODAY'S POEM

Forward

WOULD FABER & FABER STILL EXIST WITHOUT T.S. ELIOT?

"Was there ever a good time to start a publishing firm? Most publishers’ memoirs from the pre-conglomerate days are framed in an atmosphere of well-nigh Dickensian gloom, where whey-faced clerks fret over the profit-and-loss account while creditors’ boots trample on each unguarded stair. Happily, Fabers had a trump card in the shape of Geoffrey’s co-director, T.S. Eliot."
via THE SPECTATOR

READ ALL TODAY'S HEADLINES

WHAT SPARKS POETRY: BRIAN TEARE ON GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS’ “AS KINGFISHERS CATCH FIRE”
"I remember the moment I learned words could record the reciprocal press of poet upon the world and the world upon poet. A truant undergraduate student, I had signed up late for a “Modern British Poetry” course, and came to the second class unprepared. The assigned reading was Gerard Manley Hopkins."

READ THIS WEEK'S ISSUE

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