Friday, July 6, 2012

Sylvia Plath


“I see her as a kind
of Hammer Films poet”
—Philip Larkin
Letter to Judy Egerton
10 June 1960

It wasn’t pretty—
It was tres messy
And rather bloody….

But it had—
To be done and
That’s what I did…

I killed Big Daddy—
Fucking there in the
Old cold graveyard

I waited behind—
A tilting old gravestone
As he fucked away

I even invited—
Assia to come and
Visit that weekend

The Yorkshire prick—
Couldn’t wait to sink
His Pike inside her

That’s when I—
Heard my tall
Handsome husband

Moan & groan—
The way he did
When he lost it

That’s when—
I snuck up &
Shot them dead

I used his own—
Stinking killer rifle…

I buried them—
Both down deep in
Court Green Cemetery

And reported—
Them gone and
Poor me all alone

An abused abandoned—
Wife of an adulterous
Gigolo husband

Everybody nodded—
Knowingly, he’d always
Been a Lady’s Man

Ever since his—
Randy Cambridge days
People shook their heads

I played the sad—
Distraught abandoned
Widow game rather…

Cool & nicely—
I thought & stayed
There at Court Green

I played it well—
The grieving widow poet’s
Sad bitter Violin

Faber felt sorry—
Miss Eliot took me
Under her wing

After all, my dears—
His marriage wasn’t
The happiest thing either

And so I published—
While the Fox, Hawk
Whore rotted slowly

Down there beneath—
The Yew tree in my own
Backyard cemetery

I skipped London—
Yeats’ flat and all
That cold winter angst

Mommy Dearest—
Wanted me to come back
To America, of course

Why teach there—
At Smith though with
Prouty & the dykes?

I was British now—
With a stiff upper lip
And poetry to write

Big Daddy Lit—
It grew & grew
I became famous

Women’s Lib—
Was just beginning
The BBC loved me

I sneered at men—
Especially Mytholmroyd
Male putrid Pricks

My oeuvre grew—
I became famous
And infamous too

When Larkin turned—
The poet laureateship
Down, it was mine

Rather than—
Carol Ann Duffy
Or my tacky husband

From then on—
Butchy Britannia did
The Big Turnaround

I relished it—
The very first Lady
Poet Laureate

Lesbos reborn—
Founder of British
Sapphic Modernism

My pen sang—
While Ted & Assia
Rotted down below

So much for—
Big Daddy finally
Gone at last

And me, my dears?—
I didn’t even bother
To say Achoo!!!              

Instead I became—
Who I’d always been
Ariel the Goddess at last!!!

1 comment:

Carl Rollyson said...

Or Isis. My biography, AMERICAN ISIS: THE LIFE AND ART OF SYLVIA PLATH will be published in late January by St. Martin's Press.