Tags
2015, 5*, blond, clothes, dark, ears, eating, face, girl, hands, hotel, identity, kitchen, life, night, passing, red, sweat, Sylvia Plath, talking, time, twilight, water, writing
and do your ears burn red, or do you,
washing dishes, with those same clothes
rotting under your armpits, still talk
about visigoths to your pathetic self
and divine nothing? I put you in a book,
because a girl with blond hair told me
about you one night eating grapes in the
twilight kitchen, the planes of her face
growing darker; two years ago, with those
same clothes, stood in the doorway of the
old hotel watching a girl named Ann, with
wet hair walk beside Lake George; acrid,
now, with the stench of dried sweat and
your long black hair, your hands puffed
and creased from the hot water; tell me,
do your ears burn red?
bevelled up into bas-relief out of entry 120. of The Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
girl wormhole: snapshots about Totnes
hands wormhole: place
hotel wormhole: constant hummm
identity & life wormhole: looking back over the tack / and jibe of my life I / notice there is / a fetch // after all … / but certainly not / where I had planned / or where I thought / I’d been
kitchen wormhole: out
night wormhole: humm
passing wormhole: passing
red wormhole: Bexhill 140215
Sylvia Plath wormhole: at table 21 in the garden centre thinking to / replicate Hughes’ exercise for Plath about / the Yew Tree
talking wormhole: Cocktails in 1951
time wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 220211
twilight wormhole: good going into / that gentle night
water wormhole: all the sandstone / reflections in the / marble-blue troughs
writing wormhole: found
