for Susan O’Neill Roe
What a thrill —-
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of 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 one?
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.
(Sylvia Plath)
More Poetry from Sylvia Plath:
Sylvia Plath Poems based on Topics: Joy & Excitement, Running, Silence, Emotions- Sow (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- In Plaster (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- Southern Sunrise (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- Two Views Of A Cadaver Room (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- The Queen's Complaint (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss (Sylvia Plath Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Joy & Excitement Poems, Silence Poems, Running Poems, Emotions PoemsBased on Keywords: flap, turkey, gauze, clutching, plush, darkens, scalp, veteran, roe, confronts, pill