iridescent like tears;
an intricate spiders’ web
laced tight:
a smile, spliced.
Fair like the weather.
You’re my intravenous jigsaw,
with labyrinthine eyes
sewn shut.
My ball-jointed umbra,
strung sideways
and screaming.
You’re oscillating,
cinereal
you’re fractured glass -
a moon-skulled reflection;
bare and hollow,
black-backed like the undersides of stars.
You’re mute,
blurred at the edges -
a bird with feather flutings
and broken wings
falling
headfirst into sun-split daydreams.
You’re-
You’re –
not alone,
spit sister.
* * *
What is this - poetry!? Yes, this is my fail attempt at a poem...
Lots of recycled images in this one. I'm a little rusty, I'm afraid... This was inspired by Plath's poem (it's always the case!) of the same name, and was written for a writers' group workshop on second person poetry. I'm not sure if I will actually end up submitting this one or not, though: I'd like to see what you think.
