Cut
de Sylvia Plath(2005)
1 min lectură
Mediu
For Susan O\'Neill Roe
What a thrill ---
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of a hinge
Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.
Little pilgrim,
The Indian\'s axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls
Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz.
A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they on?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to kill
The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man ---
The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux Klan
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump ---
Trepanned veteran,
Dirty girl,
Thumb stump.
Despre aceasta lucrare
- Autor
- Sylvia Plath
- Tip
- Poezie
- An
- 2005
- Cuvinte
- 141
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 41
- Actualizat
Cum sa citezi
Sylvia Plath. “Cut.” Clasici, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/clasici/sylvia-plath/poezie/cutIntrebari frecvente
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