"I wanna go home
Take off this uniform
and leave the show.
But I'm waiting in this cell
Because i have to know.
Have I been guilty all this time?" (P.F.)
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 monoxides, 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. (Sylvia Plath)
Mazochism (first version)
I will scratch the cuts you have left on me
till they won't stop bleeding, so that the scars
remind me forever.
Of what was NOT.
Then I will wait till they all run dry
and soak my body in bleach,so that they
can marvel at my pale,snow white skin,
my noble blood
-lessness.
Finally I will cut three limbs off with an axe
and then drag my pure clean torso outside
to dig the soil in the hope of finding you,
my stillborn love.
