Thursday, June 11, 2009

Dear Sylvia

Such a tragic masterpiece-
you crouching by the oven,
drinking in the poisonous air.
I found you there,
but much too late.
Thirty-two years too late.

But the distance doesn't stop me
from crying,
from wishing we had been best friends.
And I could've pulled you up.

But no.
You felt like a star pinned to the sky-
couldn't pull away from the heat.

God had not given me life
when you died there,
but I found you, nonetheless
and I cried as if
you were my own mother.

Your grave sits cold now
and if I ever decide to visit,
I'll lay out some milk,
just in case
you decide to wake up.

9 screams:

Suzanne said...

lovely. Just honestly lovely.

Cassandra said...

Aww...thanks Suzanne. *blush*

lissa said...

sighing with a heavy breath, I always found Plath's work a bit depressing... but you do put your thoughts in such a lovely way, it's hard not to get bit awestruck

Suzanne said...

I think you will be suprised, if you read this story... there is something in it so similar to what you wrote about. Let's see if you can find the twin;)

Sarah Jensen said...

Plath was a tragic woman. As was her son. But isn't that the point? Isn't life sometimes tragic? And as a writer, do we not need to pull on it. To have tragic inspiration when our life is anything but.

This site is wonderful. To help me in my writing.

Thank you ladies!

L. Diane Wolfe said...

Thank you so much for following my blog!!

L. Diane Wolfe

Tricia J. O'Brien said...

Beautiful and haunting. 'a star pinned to the sky' is a wonderous image. This is poem to embrace despite, or indeed because of, the cold.
Why I'm going to come here and hang out sometimes? Cuz without dark, we have no sense of light, no balance. And, besides, I have a twisted sort of humor that makes me laugh until it hurts at Edward Gorey and the odd things that can be done with the dark.

Suzanne said...

Tricia: E is for ennui!

glnroz said...

Just place it under The Bell Jar.