One Woman Lost to Sylvia Plath

Havoc wreaked
and weakened me
and demons greased between the cracks, the kinks, the chinks
The fact is I am just a lemon lonely
I am just a woman only
a tearful waitress waiting
and serving life
with malted liquid lasting
crumbling to dust,
but ready to sweep

I am just a man with a woe
a he with an S
a yes for all the no’s
a writer of the woes
found in the basement
Hiring ivy to grow like moss
on the box in which I rest
And I braid a basket case
that I thread the chaos through

I pour the water without ripple-rings
and did Things to you
‘till you be
‘till you came
‘till you became a blade of grass on which I choke
but you were late and I lost myself
Peeking through the crease
Between the cracks
I am only a woman lonely

Written by Danielle McIntyre

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