0
The Tour - Sylvia Plath
0 0

The Tour Sylvia Plath

The Tour - Sylvia Plath
O maiden aunt, you have come to call.
Do step into the hall!
With your bold
Gecko, the little flick!
All cogs, weird sparkle and every cog solid gold.
And I in slippers and housedress with no lipstick!

And you want to be shown about!
Yes, yes, this is my address.
Not a patch on your place, I guess, with the Javanese
Geese and the monkey trees.
It's a bit burnt-out,
A bit of a wild machine, a bit of a mess!

O I shouldn't put my finger in that
Auntie, it might bite!
That's my frost box, no cat,
Though it looks like a cat, with its fluffy stuff, pure white.
You should see the objects it makes!
Millions of needly glass cakes!

Fine for the migraine or the bellyache. And this
Is where I kept the furnace,
Each coal a hot cross-stitch—a lovely light!
It simply exploded one night,
It went up in smoke.
And that's why I have no hair, auntie, that's why I choke
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Login Register
Log into your account
And gain new opportunities
Forgot your password?