|
for Sylvia Plath
Last night I slept with Sylvia
although we were both married
she came to me all willow waisted
adder breasted her stiff lucent body
lit like a torch that haunted
a diaphanous gown of keening follies
as stringent as a leprous tear
The great gloom of her life
was a waif like tender tragedy
traipsing across my muse with
a hurricane lamp how could I
not want her demons & longings
banished by our coital embrace
Last night I slept with Sylvia
and I awoke to comb her great
tumble down cloud of tresses
all waxen & spun gold at dawn
but
it was only her book on the bed!
copyright 2012
Baron James
Ashanti |
