avoid the outgrown garden,
her gown cut like a humming-bird
a cry of flesh and bone
a death tree for you
I often wonder where you've gone
summer grows over your body,
and I can't help but imagine
eyes to yours, a page of yours
a scripture, untouchable, in legacy
as the fuchsia grows on your grave
can't help but think
thawing in fugue, trapping words
as heavy as your childhood
I am guilty of envy (poets often are)
a young woman; I wonder who you'd be now,
I wish your heart stayed beating;
a ship root into the sea,
and ash into the wood,
stunned by violets,
I lie; I am trapped by your words.
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Written for the dVerse 5/18/21 prompt:
Select ONE of our favourite poets (a celebrated or a lesser known one) and write a poem either
- About them (the indirect voice, as exemplified in the first two poems)
Or - Addressing them in the direct voice.
It’s no secret how much I adore Sylvia Plath’s work. It’s wondrous, beautiful, and at times, tragic. She’s a poet that mystifies me completely, captivates a scenery beyond sheer word, and I wish she could have been on this earth for a while longer. It’s strange to miss someone that you never knew/never met, and who was gone long before you existed; I hope she’s in peace now.
