You're by Sylvia Plath
You're by Sylvia Plath

You’re

Sylvia Plath * Track #25 On Ariel

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You're by Sylvia Plath

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Sylvia Plath
About

Sylvia Plath had two children, Frieda born in 1960 and Nicholas born in 1962. This poem describes the joy, fear and anticipation of pregnancy and will chime with women who have been through the experience of having children. It is heartening to know that there were times when Sylvia Plath was happy,...

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You’re Annotated

Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fool's Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our travelled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

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