What a thrill ---
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top kinda gone
Except for a sort of a hinge
Of skin,
A perplex like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that cerise plush.
bitty pilgrim,
The Indians 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 one million million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they on?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a yellow journalism 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
soma of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump ---
Trepanned veteran,
Dirty girl,
Thumb stump.
almsgiving
by Sylvia Plath
| |
|Kindness glides about my house. |
|Dame Kindness, she is so nice! |
|The blue and red jewels of her rings smoke |
|In the windows, the mirrors |
|Are filling with smiles. |
| |
|What is so real as the cry of a child? |
|A rabbits cry may be wilder |
|But it has no soul.
|
| bread can cure everything, so Kindness says. |
|Sugar is a necessary fluid, |
| |
|Its crystals a little poultice. |
|O benignity, kindness |
|Sweetly picking up pieces! |
|My Japanese silks, desperate butterflies, |
| may be pinned any minute, anesthetized. |
| |
|And here you come, with a cup of tea...If you call for to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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