Margaret Atwood - Death By Landscape lyrics

Now that the boys are grown
Up and Rob is dead
Lois has moved to a condominium apartment in
One of Toronto's newer waterfront
Developments she is relieved
Not to have to worry about the lawn
Or about
The ivy pushing it's muscular little
Suckers into the brickwork
Or the squirrels gnawing their
Way into the attic
And eating the insulation off the wiring
Or about strange noises this building has
A security system
And the only plant life is
In pots in the solarium

Lois is glad she's been able to find
An apartment big enough for her
Pictures they are more crowded together than
They were in the house


But this arrangement gives
The walls a European look: blocks of
Pictures, above and beside one another
Rather than
One over the chesterfield, one over the
Fireplace, one in the front hall
In the old acceptable manner
Of sprinkling art around
So it does not get too intrusive
This way has more of an impact you
Know it's not supposed to be furniture

None of the pictures is very large
Which doesn't mean they
Aren't valuable they are paintings
Or sketches and drawings
By artists who were not nearly as
Well known when Lois began
To buy them as they are now their
Work later turned up on stamps, or as
Silk-screen reproductions hung in the
Principals' offices of
High schools, or as jigsaw puzzles
Or on beautifully printed calendars sent
Out by corporations as Christmas
Gifts to their less important clients
These artists painted after the first war
And in the Thirties and Forties they
Painted landscapes lois has two
Tom Thompsons, three A y jacksons, a Lawren
Harris she has an Arthur Lismer
She has a JEH macDonald she has
A David Milne they are pictures
Of convoluted tree trunks on an
Island of pink wave-smoothed stone
With more islands behind of a
Lake with rough, bright
Sparsely wooded cliffs of a vivid
River shore with a tangle of bush and two
Beached canoes, one red
One gray of a yellow autumn
Woods with the ice-blue
Gleam of a pond half-seen
Through the interlaced branches

It was Lois who'd chosen them rob
Had no interest in art
Although he could see the necessity of
Having something on the walls he left all the
Decorating decisions to her, while
Providing the money, of
Course because of this collection of hers
Lois's friends – especially the men –
Have given her the reputation
Of having a good nose for art investments but
This is not why she bought the pictures
Way back then she bought them
Because she wanted them
She wanted something that was
In them although she
Could not have said at the time what it was
It was not peace: She does not find
Them peaceful in the least looking
At them fills her
With a wordless unease despite the fact that
There are no people in them or even animals
It's as if there is something, or someone
Looking back out

WHEN she was fourteen
Lois went on a canoe trip she'd only
Been on overnights before this was to
Be a long one, into the trackless wilderness
As Cappie
Put it it was Lois's first canoe trip
And her last

Cappie was the head of the
Summer camp to which Lois
Had been sent ever since she
Was nine camp Manitou
It was called it was one
Of the better ones, for girls
Though not the best girls of her age
Whose parents could afford it were routinely
Packed off to such camps
Which bore a generic resemblance to
One another they favored Indian names
And had hearty, energetic leaders
Who were called Cappie
Or Skip or Scottie at these camps you
Learned to swim well and sail
And paddle a canoe
And perhaps ride a horse or
Play tennis when you weren't
Doing these things you could do Arts
And Crafts, and turn out dingy
Lumpish clay ashtrays for your mother
– mothers smoked more
Then – or bracelets made
Of colored braided string
Cheerfulness was required at all times
Even at breakfast loud shouting
And the banging of spoons on
The tables were allowed
And even encouraged, at ritual intervals
Chocolate bars were rationed, to
Control tooth decay and pimples
At night, after supper
In the dining hall or outside around
A mosquito-infested campfire ring for special
Treats, there were sing-songs lois can still
Remember all the words to "My
Darling Clementine, " and to "My
Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean
" with acting-out
Gestures: a rippling of the hands for "ocean
" two hands together under
The cheeks for "lies" She will never
Be able to forget them
Which is a sad thought

Lois thinks she can recognize women who went
To these camps and were good at
It they have a hardness to their handshakes
Even now a way of standing
Legs planted firmly and farther
Apart than usual a way of sizing you up
To see if you'd be any good
In a canoe – the front
Not the back they themselves would be in the
Back they would call it the stem

She knows that such camps still exist
Although Camp Manitou does not they are
One of the few things that
Haven't changed much they now
Offer copper enameling, and functionless
Pieces of stained glass baked
In electric ovens
Though judging from the productions
Of her friends'
Grandchildren the artistic standards
Have not improved

To Lois, encountering it in the
First year after the war
Camp Manitou seemed ancient it's log-sided
Buildings with the white
Cement in between the half-logs, it's
Flagpole ringed with whitewashed stones
It's weathered gray dock jutting
Out into Lake Prospect
With it's woven rope bumpers and
It's rusty rings for tying up
It's prim round flowerbed of
Petunias near the office
Door, must surely have been
There always in truth
It dated only from the
First decade of the century it had
Been founded by Cappie's parents, who'd
Thought of camping as bracing to
The character, like cold showers
And had been passed along to her
As an inheritance and an obligation

Lois realized later that it must have
Been a struggle for Cappie
To keep Camp Manitou going during
The Depression and then the
War, when money did not flow freely
If it had been a
Camp for the very rich, instead
Of the merely well-off
There would have been fewer problems
But there must have
Been enough Old Girls, ones with daughters
To keep the thing in operation
Though not entirely shipshape: Furniture was
Battered: painted trim was peeling
Roofs leaked there were
Dim photographs of these Old Girls
Dotted around the dining hall
Wearing ample woolen
Bathing suit's and showing their fat, dimpled
Legs, or standing, arms twined
In odd tennis outfit's with baggy skirts

In the dining hall
Over the stone fireplace that was never
Used, there was a huge
Molting stuffed moose head
Which looked somehow carnivorous it was
A sort of mascot it's
Name was Monty Manitou the
Older campers spread the
Story that it was haunted and came
To life in the dark
When the feeble and undependable
Lights had been turned off or, due to
Yet another generator failure, had
Gone out lois was afraid of it at first
But not after she got used to it

Cappie was the same: You had to get used
To her possibly she was
Forty, or thirty-five
Or fifty she had fawncolored hair that
Looked as if it was cut with
A bowl her head jutted
Forward, jigging like a chicken's as
She strode around the camp
Clutching notebooks and checking things
Off in them she
Was like Lois's minister in church: Both
Of them smiled a lot and were anxious because
They wanted things to go well they
Both had the same overwashed
Skins and stringy
Necks but all this disappeared when Cappie
Was leading a sing-song or
Otherwise leading then
She was happy, sure of herself, her plain
Face almost luminous she wanted to cause joy
At these times she was loved
At others merely trusted

There were many things Lois didn't
Like about Camp Manitou, at first she
Hated the noisy chaos and spoon
Banging of the dining hall
The rowdy sing-songs at which you were
Expected to yell in order to
Show that you were enjoying yourself
Hers was not a
Household that encouraged yelling she
Hated the necessity of
Having to write dutiful letters
To her parents claiming
She was having fun she could not complain
Because camp cost so much money

She didn't much like having to undress
In a roomful of other girls, even in the dim
Light, although nobody paid any attention
Or sleeping
In a cabin with seven other girls
Some of whom snored because they had adenoids
Or colds, some of whom had nightmares, or
Wet their beds and cried about it bottom
Bunks made her feel closed in
And she was afraid of falling out of
Top ones she was afraid
Of heightsShe got homesick
And suspected her parents of
Having a better time when she wasn't
There than when she was
Although her mother wrote to her
Every week saying how
Much they missed her all this was when she
Was nine by the time she
Was thirteen she liked
It she was an old hand by then

LUCY was her best friend at camp lois
Had other friends in the winter
When there was school and itchy woolen
Clothing and darkness in the afternoons
But Lucy was her summer friend

She turned up the second year
When Lois was ten and a Bluejay
(Chickadees, Bluejays, Ravens
And Kingfishers – these were the names
Camp Manitou assigned to the
Different age groups, a sort of totemic clan
System in those days, thinks Lois, it was
Birds for girls
Animals for boys – wolves and so
Forth – though some animals
And birds were suitable and some were not:
Never vultures, for instance never skunks
Or rats)

Lois helped Lucy to unpack her tin trunk and
Place the folded clothes on
The wooden shelves
And to make up her bed she put her
In the top bunk right above her
Where she could keep an eye
On her already she
Knew that Lucy was an exception to a good
Many rules already she
Felt proprietorial lucy
Was from the United States
Where comic books
Came from, and the movies she wasn't from
New York or Hollywood or Buffalo
The only American cities Lois knew of
But from Chicago her house was on
The lakeshore and had gates to it
And grounds they had a maid
All of the time lois's family only had
A cleaning lady twice a week
The only reason Lucy was being
Sent to this camp
(she cast a look of minor scorn around the
Cabin, diminishing it and
Also offending Lois
While at the same time daunting her)
Was that her mother had been
A camper here her mother
Had been a Canadian once but
Had married her father, who had a
Patch over one eye
Like a pirate she showed Lois
The picture of him
In her wallet he got the patch in the
War "Shrapnel, " said Lucy, offhandedly lois
Who was unsure about shrapnel
Was so impressed she could only
Grunt her own two-eyed
Unwounded father was tame by comparison

"My father plays golf, " she ventured at last

"Everyone plays golf
" said Lucy "My mother plays golf"

Lois's mother did not lois took Lucy
To see the outhouses and the
Swimming dock and the dining hall
With Monty Manitou's baleful head
Knowing in advance they would not measure up

This was a bad beginning but
Lucy was good natured
And accepted Camp Manitou with the same
Casual shrug with which she
Seemed to accept everything
She would make the best of it
Without letting Lois forget that this
Was what she was doing

However, there were things Lois
Knew that Lucy did
Not lucy scratched the tops off all
Her mosquito bites and had to be taken
To the infirmary to be daubed
With Ozonol she took her
Tshirt off while sailing
And although the counselor spotted her
After a while and made her put
It back on, she burned spectacularly
Bright red, with the X of her
Bathing-suit straps standing
Out in alarming white she let
Lois peel the sheets of whispery-thin burned
Skin off her shoulders when they
Sang "Alouette" around the campfire
She did not know any of the French words the
Difference was that Lucy did not care
About the things she didn't know
Whereas Lois did

During the next winter
And subsequent winters
Lucy and Lois wrote to each other they were
Both only children, at a time when this
Was thought to be a disadvantage
So in their letters they pretended to be
Sisters or even twins lois had
To strain a little over this
Because Lucy was so blond
With translucent skin and large blue
Eyes like a doll's, and
Lois was nothing out of the
Ordinary, just a tallish, thinnish
Brownish person with freckles they
Signed their letters LL
With the L's entwined together like
The monograms on a towel
(Lois and Lucy, thinks Lois how our names
Date us lois Lane, Superman's girlfriend
Enterprising female
Reporter I Love Lucy now we are obsolete
And it's little Jennifers, little Emilys
Little Alexandras and Carolines and Tiffanys)

They were more effusive in their
Letters than they ever were
In person they bordered their
Pages with X's and
O's, but when they met again
In the summers it
Was always a shock they had changed so much
Or Lucy had it was like watching
Someone grow up in jolts at
First it would be hard to
Think up things to say

But Lucy always had a surprise
Or two, something to show, some marvel to
Reveal the first year she had a
Picture of herself in a tutu
Her hair in a ballerina's knot on
The top of her head she
Pirouetted around the swimming dock, to show
Lois how it was done
And almost fell off the next year she had
Given that up and was taking horseback riding
(Camp Manitou did not have
Horses) The next year
Her mother and father had been divorced
And she had a new stepfather, one with
Both eyes, and a new house
Although the maid was the same the
Next year
When they had graduated from Bluejays
And entered Ravens, she got her period
Right in the
First week of camp the two of them snitched
Some matches from their counselor
Who smoked illegally, and made
A small fire out behind the
Furthest outhouse, at dusk
Using their flashlights they could
Set all kinds of fires by now they had
Learned how in Campcraft on this fire
They burned one of Lucy's used
Sanitary napkins lois is not sure
Why they did this
Or whose idea it was but she can remember
The feeling of deep satisfaction
It gave her as
The white fluff singed and the blood sizzled
As if some wordless ritual had been fulfilled

They did not get caught
But then they rarely got caught at
Any of their camp transgressions lucy
Had such large eyes
And was such an accomplished liar

THIS year Lucy is different again: slower
More languorous she is no longer
Interested in sneaking around after dark
Purloining cigarettes from the counselor
Dealing in black market candy
Bars she is pensive, and hard to wake in the
Mornings she doesn't like
Her stepfather, but she doesn't want to
Live with her real father either
Who has a new wife she thinks her
Mother may be having an affair with
A doctor she doesn't know for sure
But she's seen them smooching in his car
Out in the driveway
When her stepfather wasn't there
It serves him right
She hates her private school she has a
Boyfriend, who is sixteen and works
As a gardener's assistant
This is how she met him: in the
Garden she describes to Lois what it is like
When he kisses her: rubbery at first
But then your knees go limp she
Has been forbidden to see him
And threatened with boarding school she wants
To run away from home

Lois has little to offer in return her
Own life is placid and satisfactory
But there is
Nothing much that can be said about happiness
"You're so lucky, " Lucy tells her
A little smugly she
Might as well say boring
Because this is how it makes Lois feel

Lucy is apathetic about the canoe trip
So Lois has to disguise her own
Excitement the evening before they are
To leave
She slouches into the campfire ring as if
Coerced and sit's down with
A sigh of endurance, just as Lucy does
Every canoe trip that went out
Of camp was given a
Special send-off by Cappie and the
Section leader and counselors
With the whole section in
Attendance cappie painted
Three streaks of red across each of
Her cheeks with a lipstick they looked
Like three-fingered claw marks she put
A blue circle on her
Forehead with fountain-pen ink
Tied a twisted bandanna
Around her head and stuck a row
Of frazzle-ended feathers around it
And wrapped herself in a red and
Black Hudson's Bay blanket the
Counselors, also in blankets but with
Only two streaks of red
Beat on tom-toms made of round
Wooden cheeseboxes with leather stretched
Over the top and nailed in
Place cappie was Chief
Cappeosora they all had to say
"How!" when she walked into
The circle and stood there
With one hand raised

Looking back on this
Lois finds it disquieting she knows
Too much about Indians
She knows, for instance, that they should
Not even be called Indians
And that they have enough worries without
Other people taking their names and
Dressing up as them it has all
Been a form of stealing

But she remembers too that
She was once ignorant
Of this once she loved the campfire
The flickering of light on the ring of
Faces, the sound of the fake tom-toms
Heavy and fast like a scared
Heartbeat she loved Cappie in
A red blanket and feathers, solemn
As a Chief should be, raising her hand
And saying, "Greetings, my Ravens" It was
Not funny
It was not making fun she wanted to be
An Indian she wanted to
Be adventurous and pure, and aboriginal

"YOU go on big water
" says Cappie this is her idea
– all their ideas –
Of how Indians talk "You go where no man has
Ever trod you go many moons" This is
Not true they are only going
For a week, not many moons the
Canoe route is clearly marked
They have gone over it on a map
And there are prepared campsites with
Names that are used
Year after year but when Cappie says this –
And despite the way Lucy rolls up
Her eyes – Lois can feel
The water stretching out, with the shores
Twisting away on either side
Immense and a little frightening

"You bring back much wampum, " says Cappie:
"Do good in war, my braves, and
Capture many scalps" This is another of
Her pretenses: that they are boys
And bloodthirsty but such a game
Cannot be played by substituting
The word squaw it would not work at all

Each of them has to stand up and
Step forward and have a red line
Drawn across her cheeks by Cappie
She tells them they
Must follow in the paths of their ancestors
(who most certainly, thinks Lois
Looking out the window of
Her apartment and remembering
The family stash of daguerreotypes
And sepia-colored portrait's on
Her mother's dressing table –
The stiff-shirted, black-coated
Grim-faced men and the beflounced women
With their severe hair and
Their corsetted respectability – would
Never have considered heading
Off onto an open lake in a canoe
Just for fun)

At the end of the ceremony they
All stood and held hands around
The circle and sang taps this
Did not sound very Indian, thinks Lois
It sounded like a bugle call
At a military post, in a movie
But Cappie was never one to
Be much concerned with consistency
Or with archaeology

AFTER breakfast the next morning they set out
From the main dock, in four canoes, three
In each the lipstick stripes have not come
Off completely and still show faintly pink
Like healing burns they wear
Their white denim
Sailing hats, because of the sun
And thin-striped
T-shirts, and pale baggy shorts
With the cuffs
Rolled up the middle one kneels
Propping her rear end against
The rolled sleeping
Bags the counselors going with them are
Pat and Kip kip is no nonsense Pat
Is easier to wheedle or fool

There are white puffy clouds
And a small breeze
Glints come from the little waves lois
Is in the bow of Kip's canoe she
Still can't do a j-stroke very well, and
She will have to be in the bow or
The middle for the whole trip lucy
Is behind her her own jstroke is even
Worse she splashes Lois with her paddle
Quite a big splash

"I'll get you back, " says Lois

"There was a stable fly on your shoulder
" Lucy says

Lois turns to look at her
To see if she's grinning
They're in the habit of splashing
Each other back there
The camp has vanished behind
The first long point
Of rock and rough trees lois feels as
If an invisible rope has broken they're
Floating free, on their own
Cut loose beneath
The canoe the lake goes down
Deeper and colder than it was a minute before

"No horsing around in the canoe
" says Kip she's rolled her T-shirt
Sleeves up to the shoulder her arms are
Brown and sinewy, her jaw determined
Her stroke perfect she looks as if she
Knows exactly what she is doing

The four canoes keep close
Together they sing
Raucously and with defiance they sing
"The Quarter Master's Store" and
"Clementine" and "Alouette" It is more
Like bellowing than singing

After that the wind grows stronger
Blowing slantwise against the bows
And they have to put all their energy
Into shoving themselves through the water

Was there anything important
Anything that would provide some
Sort of reason
Or clue to what happened next?
Lois can remember everything
Every detail but it does her no good

They stopped at noon for a swim and lunch
And went on in the afternoon at last
They reached Little Birch
Which was the first campsite
For overnight lois
And Lucy made the fire while the
Others pitched the heavy canvas tents
The fireplace was already there
Flat stones piled into a U shape
A burned tin can and
A beer bottle had been left
In it their fire went
Out, and they had to restart
It "Hustle your bustle
" said Kip "We're starving"

The sun went down
And in the pink sunset light
They brushed their teeth
And spat the toothpaste froth into the lake
Kip and Pat put all the
Food that wasn't in cans
Into a packsack and slung it into a tree
In case of bears

Lois and Lucy weren't sleeping
In a tent they'd
Begged to be allowed to sleep out
That way they could talk without the others
Hearing if it rained, they told Kip
They promised not to crawl dripping into
The tent over everyone's legs: They
Would get under the canoes so they
Were out on the point

Lois tried to get comfortable
Inside her sleeping bag
Which smelled of musty storage
And of earlier campers – a stale
Salty sweetness she curled herself up
With her sweater rolled
Up under her head for a pillow and
Her flashlight inside her sleeping bag so
It wouldn't roll away the muscles of her
Sore arms were making small pings
Like rubber bands breaking

Beside her Lucy was rustling
Around lois could see
The glimmering oval of her white face

"I've got a rock poking into my back
" said Lucy

"So do I, " said Lois "You want to
Go into the tent?" She herself didn't
But it was right to ask

"No, " said Lucy she subsided into her
Sleeping bag after a moment she said
"It would be nice not to go back"

"To camp?" said Lois

"To Chicago, " said Lucy "I hate it there"

"What about your boyfriend?" said
Lois lucy didn't answer
She was either asleep or pretending to be

There was a moon, and a movement of the
Trees in the sky there were stars
Layers of stars that went down and down
Kip said that when the stars
Were bright like that instead of hazy
It meant bad weather later on out on
The lake there were two loons, calling
To each other in their insane
Mournful voices at the time it did not
Sound like grief it was just background

The lake in the morning was flat calm
They skimmed along over the glassy surface
Leaving V-shaped trails behind them it felt
Like flying as the sun rose
Higher it got hot, almost
Too hot there were stable
Flies in the canoes
Landing on a bare arm or leg for
A quick sting lois hoped for wind

They stopped for lunch at the
Next of the named
Campsites, Lookout Point it was
Called this because
Although the site it'self was
Down near the water on a flat shelf of rock
There was a sheer cliff nearby and a
Trail that led up to the top
The top was the lookout
Although what you were supposed to
See from there was
Not clear kip said it was just a view

Lois and Lucy decided to make the
Climb anyway they didn't want to
Hang around waiting for lunch it
Wasn't their turn to cook
Though they hadn't avoided
Much by not doing it
Because cooking lunch was no big deal it was
Just unwrapping the cheese and getting out
The bread and peanut butter
Though Pat and Kip always had
To do their woodsy act
And boil up a billy tin for their own tea

They told Kip where they were going you had
To tell Kip where you were going
Even if it was only a little
Way into the woods to get
Dry twigs for kindling you could never
Go anywhere without a buddy

"Sure, " said Kip, who was
Crouching over the fire
Feeding driftwood into it "Fifteen
Minutes to lunch"

"Where are they off to?" said
Pat she was bringing
Their billy tin of water from the lake

"Lookout, " said Kip

"Be careful, " said Pat she
Said it as an afterthought
Because it was what she always said

"They're old hands, " Kip said

LOIS looks at her watch: It's ten to
Twelve she is the watch-minder Lucy is
Careless of time they walk up the path
Which is dry earth and rocks
Big rounded pinky-gray boulders or
Splitopen ones with
Jagged edges spindly balsam and spruce
Trees grow to either side the lake
Is blue fragments to the left
The sun is right overhead there are no
Shadows anywhere the heat comes up
At them as well as down the
Forest is dry and crackly

It isn't far
But, it's a steep climb and they're
Sweating when they reach the top
They wipe their faces with their bare arms
Sit gingerly down on a scorching-hot rock
Five feet from the edge but too close
For Lois it's a lookout all right
A sheer drop to
The lake and a long view over the water
Back the way they've come it's
Amazing to Lois that
They've traveled so far, over all that water
With nothing to propel them but their
Own arms it makes her feel
Strong there are all kinds of things
She is capable of doing

"It would be quite a dive off here
" says Lucy

"You'd have to be nuts, " says Lois

"Why?" says Lucy "It's really deep
It goes straight down" She
Stands up and takes a step
Nearer the edge lois
Gets a stab in her midriff
The kind she gets when
A car goes too fast over a bump "Don't
" she says

"Don't what?" says Lucy
Glancing around at her mischievously
She knows how Lois
Feels about heights but she turns back
"I really have to pee, " she says

"You have toilet paper?" says Lois
Who is never without it she
Digs in her shorts pocket

"Thanks, " says Lucy

They are both adept at peeing
In the woods: doing
It fast so the mosquitoes don't get you, the
Underwear pulled up between the knees
The squat with the
Feet apart so you don't wet your legs
Facing downhill
The exposed feeling of your bum
As if someone is looking at you
From behind the etiquette when you're
With someone else is not to
Look lois stands up
And starts to walk back down the path
To be out of sight

"Wait for me?" says Lucy

Lois climbed down, over and
Around the boulders
Until she could not see Lucy
She waited she could hear the voices
Of the others, talking and laughing, down
Near the shore one voice was yelling
"Ants! Ants!" Someone must have sat on
An anthill off to the side, in
The woods, a raven was croaking
A hoarse single note

She looked at her watch: It was noon this is
When she heard the shout she has gone over
And over it in her mind since, so many times
That the first, real shout
Has been obliterated
Like a footprint trampled by other
Footprints but she is sure
(she is almost positive
She is nearly certain) that it was
Not a shout of fear
Not a scream more like a cry of
Surprise, cut off too soon short
Like a dog's bark

"Lucy?" Lois said then she called "Lucy!" By
Now she was clambering back up
Over the stones of the path lucy was not
Up there or she was not in sight

"Stop fooling around
" Lois said "It's lunchtime" But Lucy did
Not rise from behind a rock
Or step out, smiling, from behind a
Tree the sunlight was all around the
Rocks looked white "This isn't
Funny!" Lois said, and it wasn't
Panic was rising in her
The panic of a small child who
Does not know where the bigger
Ones are hidden she could hear her
Own heart she looked quickly
Around she lay down on the ground
And looked over the edge
Of the cliff it made her
Feel cold there was nothing

She went back down the path
Stumbling she was breathing too quickly she
Was too frightened to cry
She felt terrible, guilty and dismayed
As if she
Had done something very bad by mistake
Something that could never be
Repaired "Lucy's gone, " she told Kip

Kip looked up from her fire
Annoyed the water in
The billy tin was boiling "What do you mean
'Gone'?" she said "Where did she go?"

"I don't know, " said Lois "She's just gone"

No one had heard the shout but then
No one had
Heard Lois calling either they had
Been talking among themselves, by the water

Kip and Pat went up to
The lookout and searched
And called and blew their
Whistles nothing answered

Then they came back down
And Lois had to tell exactly what had
Happened the other girls all sat
In a circle and listened to her nobody said
Anything they all looked
Frightened, especially Pat and Kip they
Were the leaders you
Did not just lose a camper like this
For no reason at all

"Why did you leave her alone?" said Kip

"I was just down the path
" said Lois "I told you she
Had to go to the bathroom"
She did not say pee in front
Of people older than herself

Kip looked disgusted

"Maybe she just walked off into the
Woods and got turned around
" said one of the girls

"Maybe she's doing it on purpose
" said another

Nobody believed either of these theories

They took the canoes and searched around
The base of the cliff
And peered down into the water but
There had been no sound of
Falling rock there had been no
Splash there was no clue
Nothing at all lucy had simply vanished

That was the end of the canoe
Trip it took them the same
Two days to go back that
It had taken coming in
Even though they were short a
Paddler they did not sing

After that the police went, in a motorboat
With dogs they were the Mounties and the dogs
Were German shepherds
Trained to follow trails in
The woods but it had rained since
And they could find nothing

LOIS is sitting in Cappie's office her
Face is bloated with crying
She's seen that in the mirror by now
She feels numbed she feels as
If she has drowned she can't stay
Here it has been too
Much of a shock tomorrow her
Parents are coming to
Take her away several of the other girls who
Were on the canoe trip are
Being collected in the
Same way the others will have to stay
Because their parents are in Europe
Or cannot be reached

Cappie is grim they've tried to hush it up
But of course everyone in camp knows soon
The papers will know too you
Can't keep it quiet
But what can be said? What can be
Said that makes any sense? "Girl
Vanishes in broad daylight
Without a trace" It can't
Be believed other things, worse things
Will be suspected negligence
At the very least but they have always
Taken such care bad luck will gather
Around Camp Manitou like a fog parents
Will avoid it in favor
Of other, luckier places lois can
See Cappie thinking all this
Even through her numbness it's
What anyone would think

Lois sit's on the hard wooden
Chair in Cappie's office
Beside the old wooden desk over which hangs
The thumbtacked bulletin
Board of normal camp routine
And gazes at Cappie through her
Puffy eyelids cappie is
Now smiling what is supposed to
Be a reassuring smile
Her manner is too casual:
She's after something
Lois has seen this look on Cappie's face when
She's been sniffing out
Contraband chocolate bars
Hunting down those rumored to have snuck
Out of their cabins at night

"Tell me again, " says Cappie
"from the beginning"

Lois has told her story so many times
By now, to Pat and Kip, to
Cappie, to the police, that she knows it
Word for word she knows it
But she no longer
Believes it it has become a
Story "I told you, " she says "She wanted to
Go to the bathroom i gave her my
Toilet paper i went down the path
I waited for her i heard this kind of shout "

"Yes, " says Cappie, smiling confidingly
"but before that what did you
Say to each other?"

Lois thinks nobody has asked her
This before "She said you
Could dive off there she said
It went straight down"

"And what did you say?"

"I said you'd have to be nuts"

"Were you mad at Lucy?" says Cappie
In an encouraging voice

"No, " says Lois "Why would I be
Mad at Lucy? I wasn't ever mad
At Lucy" She feels like crying again the
Times when she has, in fact
Been mad at Lucy have been erased
Already lucy was always perfect

"Sometimes we're angry when we don't know
We're angry, " says Cappie
As if to herself "Sometimes we get
Really mad and we don't
Even know it sometimes
We might do a thing without meaning to
Or without knowing what will happen
We lose our tempers"

Lois is only thirteen
But it doesn't take her long to
Figure out that Cappie is not
Including herself in any of this
By we she means Lois
She is accusing Lois of pushing Lucy
Off the cliff the unfairness
Of this hit's her like a
Slap "I didn't!" she says

"Didn't what?" says Cappie
Softly "Didn't what, lois?"

Lois does the worst thing she begins
To cry cappie gives her
A look like a pounce she's
Got what she wanted

Later, when she was grown up
Lois was able to understand
What this interview
Had been about she could see Cappie's
Desperation, her need for a story, a
Real story with a reason in it anything
But the senseless vacancy Lucy had
Left for her to deal with she
Wanted Lois to supply the reason
To be the reason it wasn't even
For the newspapers or the parents
Because she could never make such an
Accusation without proof it was for
Herself: something to explain the loss of
Camp Manitou and of all she had worked for
The years of entertaining spoiled children
And buttering up parents and
Making a fool of herself with feathers stuck
In her hair camp Manitou was
In fact, lost it did not survive

Lois worked all this out
Twenty years later but it was far
Too late it was too late
Even ten minutes afterward
When she'd left Cappie's office and
Was walking slowly back to her cabin to pack
Lucy's clothes were still
There, folded on the shelves
As if waiting she felt the other girls
In the cabin watching her with speculation
In their eyes could she have
Done it! She must
Have done it for the rest of her life
She has caught people watching
Her in this way

Maybe they weren't thinking this maybe
They were merely sorry
For her but she felt she had been tried
And sentenced and this is what
Has stayed with her:
The knowledge that she has been singled out
Condemned for something that was
Not her fault

LOIS sit's in the living
Room of her apartment, drinking a cup of tea
Through the knee-to- ceiling window she
Has a wide view of
Lake Ontario, with it's skin
Of wrinkled blue-gray light
And of the willows of Toronto
Island shaken by a
Wind that is silent at this distance and
On this side of the glass when
There isn't too much pollution she can see
The far shore, the foreign shore
Though today it is obscured

Possibly she should go out, go downstairs
Do some shopping there isn't much
In the refrigerator the boys
Say she doesn't get out enough but she isn't
Hungry, and moving, stirring from this space
Is increasingly an effort

She can hardly remember, now, having her
Two boys in the hospital
Nursing them as babies she can
Hardly remember getting married
Or what Rob looked like even at the
Time she never felt she was
Paying full attention she was tired a lot
As if she was living not one life but two:
Her own, and another
Shadowy life that hovered around
Her and would not let it'self be realized
The life of what would have happened if Lucy
Had not stepped sideways and
Disappeared from time

She would never go up north
To Rob's family cottage or to any place with
Wild lakes and wild trees and the
Calls of loons she would never
Go anywhere near still, it
Was as if she was always
Listening for another voice
The voice of a person who should have
Been there but was not an echo

While Rob was alive
While the boys were growing
Up, she could pretend she didn't hear it
This empty space in sound but now there
Is nothing much left to distract her

She turns away from the window and looks at
Her pictures there is the pinkish island
In the lake
With the inter-twisted trees it's
The same landscape they paddled through
That distant summer she's seen
Travelogues of this country
Aerial photographs it looks different from
Above, bigger, more hopeless:
Lake after lake, random
Blue puddles in dark green bush
The trees like bristles

How could you ever find anything there
Once it was
Lost? Maybe if they cut it all down
Drained it all away, they
Might find Lucy's bones
Sometime, wherever they are hidden
A few bones, some
Buttons, the buckle from her shorts

But a dead person is a
Body a body occupies space
It exists somewhere you can
See it you put it in a box
And bury it in the ground
And then it's in a box in the
Ground but Lucy is not in
A box or in the ground
Because she is nowhere definite
She could be anywhere

And these paintings are not landscape
Paintings because there aren't any
Landscapes up there, not in the
Old, tidy European sense, with a gentle
Hill, a curving river, a cottage
A mountain in the background, a
Golden evening sky instead there's a
Tangle, a receding maze
In which you can become lost almost as
Soon as you step off the path
There are no backgrounds in
Any of these paintings, no vistas only
A great deal of foreground that
Goes back and back, endlessly
Involving you in it's twists and turns of
Tree and branch and rock no matter
How far back in you go, there will
Be more and the trees themselves are hardly
Trees they are currents of energy
Charged with violent color

Who knows how many trees there
Were on the cliff just
Before Lucy disappeared? Who counted? Maybe
There was one more, afterward

Lois sit's in her chair and does
Not move her hand with
The cup is raised halfway to
Her mouth she hears something
Almost hears it: a shout of
Recognition or of joy

She looks at the paintings
She looks into them every one of them is
A picture of Lucy you can't see
Her exactly, but she's there
In behind the pink stone island or the one
Behind that in the picture of the
Cliff she is hidden by the clutch of
Fallen rocks toward the bottom in
The one of the river shore she is
Crouching beneath the overturned canoe in the
Yellow autumn woods she's behind the tree
That cannot be seen because of
The other trees
Over beside the blue sliver of
Pond but if you walked
Into the picture and found the tree
It would be the wrong one
Because the right one would be farther on

Everyone has to be somewhere
And this is where Lucy is she is
In Lois's apartment, in the holes that
Open inward on the wall
Not like windows but like doors she
Is here she is entirely alive