Thursday, September 22, 2011

Balloons - Sylvia Plath

Since Christmas they have lived with us, 

Guileless and clear, 

Oval soul-animals, 

Taking up half the space, 

Moving and rubbing on the silk 



Invisible air drifts, 

Giving a shriek and pop 

When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling. 

Yellow cathead, blue fish-------- 

Such queer moons we live with 



Instead of dead furniture! 

Straw mats, white walls 

And these traveling 

Globes of thin air, red, green,
Delighting 



The heart like wishes or free 

Peacocks blessing 

Old ground with a feather 

Beaten in starry metals. 

Your small 



Brother is making 

His balloon squeak like a cat. 

Seeming to see 

A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it, 

He bites, 



Then sits 

Back, fat jug 

Contemplating a world clear as water. 

A red 

Shred in his little fist.

[sharon]

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