Learning
I met this girl, she dons
pink in almost all her suits and lays
pink undies and forthright faint pink
sweatshirts: a feigned pink innocence
thus far climbs over her overhauled all.
Until she bought one pen. And signed a slip.
Then slipped two-pills. And filled her bottle.
And bottled some rum. A tummy is shammed.
Without its point a baby is killed.
Then i met this boy, he turned himself around
and asked in silence, in awe, in great delight:
How does one sum up himself by his tummy's
light-shaded lucid sight?
Without its point a word is born.
In between them I meet myself tonight.
pink in almost all her suits and lays
pink undies and forthright faint pink
sweatshirts: a feigned pink innocence
thus far climbs over her overhauled all.
Until she bought one pen. And signed a slip.
Then slipped two-pills. And filled her bottle.
And bottled some rum. A tummy is shammed.
Without its point a baby is killed.
Then i met this boy, he turned himself around
and asked in silence, in awe, in great delight:
How does one sum up himself by his tummy's
light-shaded lucid sight?
Without its point a word is born.
In between them I meet myself tonight.
Labels: Sylvia Plath
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