Sunday, March 11, 2012

The New Yorker


Detail from Amanda Robins
“Little Smiling Hooks” (1993)

The New Yorker
__________________

“The yew’s black
fingers wag”
—Sylvia Plath
“Little Fugue”
______________

How much longer—
How much longer does it
Take to be a writer?

Terrible Ted Hughes—
He simply appalled me
Mexborough hoodlum poet
________________

He dragged my body—
Across all of Mytholmroyd
Only to dump me

He even seduced—
The Queen of England
For the Order of Merit
______________

No wonder I tried—
To off myself with
Pills in the basement

Men are all Perves—
Pumping little girls like me
Nonstop in bed all night
_______________

Daddy’s dynasty built—
On broken Boss Cupid
Arrows up my Twot

No wonder I ended up—
In a hospital for dead dolls
Shot up with tranquilizers
_________________

No wonder I ended up—
Strapped down for hours of
Rosenberg shock-treatment

I can’t undo myself now—
Daddy Devil in every dewdrop
Men are such Seducers
________________

The body of woman—
Her charred dirty Panties
Garlanded with death masks

Denouement came later—
Touched by untouchable lips
Ted going down on me
_______________

Big Daddy such a Animal—
Leaving bloodspots on my
Sheets, a done-in baby

Wounded and writhing—
Mother tried to console me
Told me be brave & shut-up
________________

The cock that rocks—
The cradle rocks the
Tombstones of my death

The body of a woman—
Who was once just an
Innocent young girl
______________

Now I bury myself—
Each day in the Land of
The abused Living Dead

I’m off to Auschwitz—
Every day I go to school
Wellesley is a Smokestack
_______________

I publish my Panic in—
The New Yorker & Mademoiselle
Then off to Cambridge

Surely British men—
Aren’t bourgeois Pigs
Like the American ones?
_______________

Surely Ted Hughes—
Mytholmroyd moody man
Isn’t like Big Daddy?

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