Friday, April 06, 2012

Balloons on West End Avenue

From 'Balloons', a poem by Sylvia Plath:

Your small
Brother is making
His balloon squeak like a cat.
Seeming to see
A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it,
He bites,

Then sits
Back, fat jug
Contemplating a world clear as water.
A red
Shred in his little fist.