Sylvia
Sylvia...
A withered iris now made into silk
Reposing
A heart screams a tacit requiem
Supposing
What is gas was electric
Decomposing
A child enthralled to words
Sylvia...
I too, crackle and drag
Sylvia touched a part of us that most people abandoned the way, a mother bird abandons her young that has fallen from a tree. For her words captured the gloom and uncertaintity, that resides in us all. For have we all not been a child, hiding under the sheets, when the outside world seemed so cold and cruel.
Drew Suhy
Plymouth Michigan, USA
Friday, December 1, 2000
The Sylvia Plath Forum is administered by Elaine Connell, author of Sylvia Plath: Killing The Angel In The House.
Web Design by Pennine Pens.