"Medusa" by Sylvia Plath
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs,
Eyes rolled by white sticks,
Ears cupping the sea's incoherences,
You house your unnerving head—God-ball,
Lens of mercies,
Your stooges
Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow,
Pushing by like hearts,
Red stigmata at the very center,
Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of
departure,
Dragging their Jesus hair.
Did I escape, I wonder?
My mind winds to you
Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable,
Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous
repair.
In any case, you are always there,
Tremulous breath at the end of my line,
Curve of water upleaping
To my water rod, dazzling and grateful,
Touching and sucking.
I didn't call you.
I didn't call you at all.
Nevertheless, nevertheless
You steamed to me over the sea,
Fat and red, a placenta
Paralyzing the kicking lovers.
Cobra light
Squeezing the breath from the blood bells
Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath,
Dead and moneyless,
Overexposed, like an X-ray.
Who do you think you are?
A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary?
I shall take no bite of your body,
Bottle in which I live,
Ghastly Vatican.
I am sick to death of hot salt.
Green as eunuchs, your wishes
Hiss at my sins.
Off, off, eely tentacle!
There is nothing between us.
I just found a cool comparison in a google book that compares the published poem with a working copy. I think she might be reading from a working copy before the final published book? Or maybe she revised them before reading. Working title for this one was "Mum: Medusa." I'll add a screenshot to the bottom of the post.
ReplyDeleteI looked up the hard copy version of this one in Ariel as she fills in another section that isn't included in the final text after the line- exactly where it is highlighted in the photo that you posted with the text that is side barred. A working poem, indeed...great understanding reading poetry moving forward. Great find!
ReplyDeleteI am currently reading a book on the mental condition of anxiety and the more and more clinical definition as well as personal description about the condition of anxiety it truly lays out more understanding of Plath on the page. The length of her poems- as if she just cannot let them go...the multiple comparisons and angles...they just keep going as her mind goes. It makes me wonder if we all could benefit from seeing our minds written out on the page. Just to know whats in there. To see the patterns.
What's the book called?
DeleteI thought I loved writing because I think more, better, and differently while I write. But you might be on to something. I like reading my writing too. Maybe I'm just trying to know what's inside too.
It's called "First we Make the Beast Beautiful" by Sarah Wilson (and you KNOW that the title hooked me right away!!!!). I am only a few chapters in and it only got a 3.82 rating on Goodreads, but is always ranked high on the books about mental disorders and it is the first book that I have looked at that directly deals with research on anxiety (I know the rabbit hole will begin....). I've been thinking more often than not about how our lives as literally defined by the way that we experience our thoughts- and our thoughts by our lives- the mental state that we have control over versus the mental state that we are born with. It's just HUGE and I don't think enough we are educated nearly enough to be able to truly understand even our own struggles with mental battles....I sure know I fall along the spectrum somewhere...especially after looking at the fire of poetry that has been started by your one single post. Isn't it just crazy how we can go from zero to hero on fire in one instant?? I am highly looking forward to checking out "Incognito" by Eagleman that has been on your recommended list for some time now...we need more on "brain"! Ok?!
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