Saturday, April 05, 2008

Morning Song

It is National Poetry Month, and for some reason this poem is on my mind today (for probably obvious reason), so I'm going to share it with you:

Morning Song by: Sylvia Plath

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.

The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.


At 8:08 AM, Blogger Maryanne Stahl said...

"for some reason"? lol! thank you for this. wonderful to read some Plath that doesn't make me want to...well, you know. this is gorgeous.

(and so are you)


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