When I go outside to mingle in the snow
My head looked like a globe
Ain't no hair on it at all
Do I buy a wig
Should I grow my beard
And comb it upwards
And around my ears
I can't wait for the kids to come
Say hey babe you go no no barbershop
I'm gonna want the child to be a long-haired child
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly--
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxide, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
- Poppies in October by Sylvia Plath
No comments:
Post a Comment