novembro 24, 2016

Follow me to the river



I came but don't forgive
Myself while I lay
In these thoughts of later day

The strip never turns pink
And for that I am free
So I free the river of mine

Cold as I am 
Turn to hot nevertheless
As if only for a second

Cars cannot see 
Nor listen to me, as I do
There's no note

No voice to empower 
My pleasure
So I lie and it goes

Soon it is done
Time to go
Sail away with the flow

novembro 23, 2016

The Applicant



First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,


Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand


To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed


To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit——


Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.


Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start


But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk.


It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.



Estou lendo o último livro de poemas da Sylvia Plath, Ariel, e me deparo a cada virada de página com um escrito fantástico. Como estou apaixonada por essa mulher. Will you marry me, marry me, marry me...

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