{berets and bongos} 36;

“i should sit on a rock off cornwall and comb my hair.
i should wear tiger pants, i should have an affair.
we should meet in another life, we should meet in air,
me and you

once you were beautiful.
in new york, in hollywood, the men said: ‘through?
gee baby, you are rare.’
you acted, acted for the thrill.
the impotent husband slumps out for a coffee.
i try to keep him in,
an old pole for the lightning,
the acid baths, the skyfuls off of you.
he lumps it down the plastic cobbled hill,
flogged trolley. the sparks are blue.
the blue sparks spill,
splitting like quartz into a million bits.”

-sylvia plath

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: