Tuesday, July 5, 2011

I dreamed Sylvia Plath

Last night I dreamed    Sylvia Plath
she asked me to help wrap her body
in yards of faded calico gauze.  She wanted
to cover her wounds, oozing
like expanding territories on a map, they take over
her feet, her thighs, her thumbs.
she said:
when night chases me, I fight back   the dark   to save myself
(in the saving, i lose
that blood soaked cloth,
you ask if i can cure you--when i, all i can do,
are words.)
the blood   the cloth    and i
through deserts of a dozen reds    i run...


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